


Mind-Blowing

by Redd000



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Android Culture & Customs, Android Racism, Angst, Family, Fluff, Found Family, Gavin Reed Redemption, Good Parent Hank Anderson, Hurt/Comfort, Mystery, Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), Platonic Relationships, Protective Gavin Reed, Protective Hank Anderson, Protective Hank: over everyone - even Gavin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-02
Updated: 2019-04-04
Packaged: 2019-06-01 10:49:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 63,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15141461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Redd000/pseuds/Redd000
Summary: “I mean it, Gavin,” Hank said. “If Price even looks at you funny, if he gives you any shit—” he took a step closer to Gavin to make sure that the younger man was listening “—you come to me immediately. Do you understand?”Gavin didn’t answer. He began to fidget considerably by Hank's proximity, but it didn’t seem to be from anger. It was almost as if he was getting upset.He hadn’t looked over at Hank since he started talking to him directly. Chris and Connor exchanged glances. Connor’s interest was more than piqued. Hank was acting odd. Almost… protective? Was that the word? Protective over Gavin?“Gavin?” Hank called again and Gavin’s attention finally snapped to the acting captain.“Yes. Hank.I understand.”An accident at a neighboring precinct has two departments sharing office space, but Gavin and Hank have murderous beef with the guest lieutenant and Connor is determined to find out why.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have been following the fandom since the very beginning and I'm so happy to see how much it has blown up such a short amount of time! I finally got around to writing something in order to add to it. I'm a bit of a sucker for hurt/comfort and protective/parental figures and this fandom is practically packed with them! I couldn't resist!
> 
> * All OCs are strictly story-driven and will never pull focus from any canon characters.

"What the fuck is all this?" Hank asked as he pulled into the precinct’s parking lot. Nearly every spot had been taken; packed to the point that cars were spilling out onto the curb. Some were even double-parked, shamelessly blocking others in. If Hank’s spot didn’t literally have his name printed on it, he would have had to find space a few blocks down the street.

“The precinct appears to be awfully busy this morning, Lieutenant,” Connor mused, always one to state the obvious.

“Yeah, no kidding,” Hank said with a snort of amusement while he pulled up the emergency brake and opened the door to step out. After hearing the second door open and slam shut, he pressed the button on his key. The car behind him flashed and locked. His android was quick to appear at his side and the two walked towards the building together.

“I have not received any notifications or alerts in regards to a sudden increase in crime, Lieutenant.” Connor took a moment to reach out to various networks, searching to verify that statement before adding, “In any district, in fact. The traffic is most peculiar.”

“That’s one way of putting it,” Hank mumbled offhandedly. They mentally prepared to walk into chaos; expecting a mad mob cluttering the lobby, phones to be ringing off the hook, voices all speaking at once as impatient people bickered and complained about the wait...

They were surprised to walk into the opposite.

The lobby wasn’t empty (it was a police precinct, it never was), but it was a lot slower than what the traffic outside suggested. A few patrons were dotted around the room, mostly loitering by the waiting area. Some were on phone calls with loved ones or lawyers, others were watching the news on the television, and the rest were just simply waiting to be called back. There was no line at reception and both of the androids that were stationed there were not at their terminals.

Heather was an ST300 and had previously worked reception in this very precinct prior to the android revolution. She had stated that she thoroughly enjoyed her time in the precinct, loved her job as well as the company, and Fowler had been more than happy to reinstate her to her former position. She hadn’t changed much in appearance save her attire, though her personality had grown to be a bit air-headed and way more effeminate the longer she explored her deviancy.

She was leaning against the desk and talking to her counterpart and coworker, Haley. The PM700, former android police officer of (like Heather) this very precinct, had changed considerably after her rehiring. Her hair was no longer the super short cut that came standard with her model; instead, it was now thoroughly extended to mimic an asymmetrical bob. Her longer bangs framed the right side of her face that ended up covering her LED most of the time, but she was still easily identified as an android due to her neck which lacked synthetic skin and was still the standard, gun-metal gray color that the police androids had all originally shared.

When she had returned to the station seeking employment, Fowler had assumed she wanted her old position back like Heather had, but the African-American android had made it clear she had no interest in police work and ended up applying to work the front desk instead. Apparently, Heather and Haley made quick friends and were equally as quick to fill the stereotype of office gossips.

The pair frequently tried to talk to Connor and even though he obliged most of the time, he often felt that his only true connection to them was their shared biology. They weren’t the only three android employees at the precinct, but their shifts aligned more often than not, so if Connor ever wanted to vent or discuss anything that was strictly android-related, his options were limited to the girls.

Despite their chatty reputation, the two of them were very professional while working, so to see them talking to each other at the front desk spoke volumes to how slow the precinct apparently was this morning. Just another contradiction to what the parking lot suggested.

The girls immediately noticed Hank and Connor enter and straightened up with bright smiles and friendly waves, genuinely happy to see them both. Hank returned the greeting with a nod of his head before throwing his thumb over his shoulder to point outside.

“What the hell is going on out front? Parking lot is packed but there’s no one here.”

“We thought you’d know,” Haley said with a shrug. “Everyone that’s come in has been in uniform. They’re all officers.”

“Really?” Hank asked. “All of ‘em?”

“Most of them,” Haley informed. “They all had authorization so we sent them back. None of them would tell us anything, though.”

“Maybe they heard about you being ‘acting captain’ and wanted to join our department!” Heather said, her tone a teasing-praise that made Connor smile in glee at the reminder.

A conference in Orlando, Florida had called away every captain in every district within Detroit: Captain Fowler included. In his absence, Hank was appointed acting captain until his return. That was four days ago and so far, as acting captain, Hank was doing phenomenally well. At least, that was according to Connor who loved to shower Hank with compliments and beamed in pride anytime the position title was brought up.

Hank’s response, whenever it was mentioned, was always met with a roll of his eyes and an amused snort. This time was no different.

“Yeah, I’m _sure_ that’s why they’re all here,” he said, a breathy laugh escaping his lips as he went to unlock the gate and head towards the bullpen. Connor was right on his heels, offering a quick wave goodbye to the girls before following after him.

They were greeted with the chaos they had been expecting in the lobby. Most of the officers that had started their shifts were at their assigned desks, but the newcomers (as well as a few detectives and officers from this precinct) were crammed and crowding the meeting room off to the right.

Amongst them was Detective Gavin Reed and Officer Chris Miller. They were by the door, almost blocking it, half-in-half-out, leaning against the wall. Gavin’s arms were crossed along his chest, a cup of coffee hung loosely in his right hand by the lid. His attention was locked on the mass of foreign officers that were chatting away at the meeting room tables, chairs, and all along the walls. Chris’ expression lacked Reed’s animosity but he didn’t look exactly thrilled either.

“You guys know what the hell all this is about?” Hank asked, stopping in front of the two and tilted his head to point to the newcomers. With Connor’s presence, the four of them were now effectively blocking the door to the meeting room, but the android was the only one who seemed to care about that. He awkwardly shuffled around Hank to try to make room should anyone want to come in or out.

“Southeast Precinct had a pipe burst above the bullpen,” Chris informed. He looked back at the small crowd. “Whole place is underwater. The commissioner sent them over here so they can continue to work until someone can get out there to repair it.”

“Well, a fucking heads up would have been nice,” Hank said with a snort and a roll of his eyes. “I didn’t get an email, phone call—fucking nothing! I don’t suppose anyone told these extra fuckers what to do?”

“We were waiting for you, all glorious leader!” Chris said with a teasing grin.

“Hah-hah, jackass. Give me a minute and we’ll see where we can put ‘em.”

“Stick ‘em on the fucking roof,” Gavin mumbled bitterly. His eyes were scanning every new face with an unwarranted hostility; as if all of Southeast Precinct had done him a personal wrong. “Or shove ‘em out back so we don’t have to see their stupid faces.”

“What’re you so happy about, Reed?” Hank asked, almost amused with how angry Gavin seemed to be.

“Detective Andrew Price got transferred to Southeast six months ago,” Chris informed them. Gavin angrily crunched the coffee cup he was holding.

“ _Lieutenant_ Andrew Price,” the detective spat out through gritted teeth before leaning over to throw the empty cup in the trash bin beside Chris. “The fuck-head got promoted with the transfer.”

“Fucking hell,” Hank said. He took another look around the room, shaking his head in disbelief. “He here?”

“Not yet,” Gavin said. He worked his jaw side-to-side in irritation. “You’ll know the very second he is, I’m sure.”

“Reed,” Hank started in a warning tone that didn’t hold the anger it usually did when he was reprimanding Gavin.

“I ain’t gonna say shit, Hank!” he snapped, rounding on Hank in an instant. “I don’t want anything to do with that fucking dickhead. Fucker can burn in hell for all I fucking care.”

“I’d appreciate that,” Hank said with a lot more composer than Connor would have normally expected from him. “Bastard can write you up and report to Fowler with that fancy new title of his. The last thing I want is for him to have an excuse to do _anything_ —to _any_ of you. Do you understand?”

He looked at both Connor and Chris when he asked, adding them to the conversation, both of them nodding an affirmative.

“Whatever,” Gavin mumbled. He waved Hank off as he turned his attention back to the crowd to seemingly continue searching for Price.

“I mean it, Gavin,” Hank said. “If Price even looks at you funny, if he gives you any shit—” he took a step closer to Gavin to make sure that the younger man was listening “—you come to me immediately. Do you understand?”

Gavin didn’t answer. He began to fidget considerably by Hank's proximity, but it didn’t seem to be from anger. It was almost as if he was getting upset.

He hadn’t looked over at Hank since he started talking to him directly. Chris and Connor exchanged glances. Connor’s interest was more than piqued. Hank was acting odd. Almost… protective? Was that the word? Protective over Gavin?

“Gavin?” Hank called again and Gavin’s attention finally snapped to the acting captain.

“Yes. _Hank_. I understand.” His words were clipped and forced and his attention jumped back to the crowd immediately afterward. Under normal circumstances, Hank would have scolded him, but Connor was surprised once again when Hank continued in a gentle tone.

“Thank you.”

Gavin’s lips had thinned; the upper part on the right side twitched into a scowl, but he didn’t say anything. Hank waited a moment longer, scanning Gavin’s face as if checking to make sure he was alright before letting out a heavy sigh.

“I need some fucking coffee…” Hank mumbled and stepped back to leave. He shot Chris a look before motioning with a nod towards Gavin: a wordless order that clearly said, _watch him._

Chris smiled and nodded that he had understood. Something about his posture suggested that that was why he was with Reed in the first place, but Connor didn’t have much time to ponder over it as Hank was already rounding the corner to the breakroom. When he caught up to the Lieutenant, Hank was at the counter messing with the coffee pot.

“Of course this is the kind of shit that happens when _I_ have to fucking handle it…” Hank complained as he threw out the old coffee grounds and replaced the filter with a new one. “Naturally Fowler gets off scot-free, fucking prick.”

“May I ask what has Lieutenant Price done to warrant such hatred from both Detective Reed and yourself, Lieutenant?”

Hank didn’t answer right away but Connor knew his partner had heard the question. The lieutenant stared at the coffee machine for a long moment, thinking something over before finally pushing the buttons to make it brew. After a moment longer, he finally let out a long, exhausted sigh.

“It’s… kind of a long and… seriously fucked up story, kid,” he said. He looked over at Connor, his stare held an unusual sorrow that made something in Connor’s gut twist uncomfortably. “And it ain’t really my story to tell.”

Connor couldn’t help but tilt his head at that. That implication suggested several things.

> Hank didn’t like Price > Price had done something fucked up

> It wasn’t Hank’s story > Price has done something to someone else

> Gavin didn’t like Price

> Hank had offered protection from Price to _Gavin_

// Price had done something fucked up to Gavin > ???

Connor couldn’t help but reach that assumption every time he played back the previous conversation with Hank and Reed. As soon as the topic had shifted to the Southeast Lieutenant, both of his colleagues had acted way too abnormal for him to think anything otherwise.

Pre-deviancy, Connor wouldn’t even be entertaining this thought. It wasn’t solid evidence by _any_ means and he almost had to laugh at himself for even suggesting it. If he had ever presented something similar to CyberLife during his time with them, they would have discontinued his model immediately. He wasn’t programmed to assume. He wasn’t programmed to jump to conclusions with little-to-no facts. Was this how rumors started?

He vaguely wondered if this was how Heather and Haley felt when they talked about people around the office.

_:: Connor! ::_

Ah, speak of the devils.

Connor blinked away the notification and backpedaled out of the breakroom before leaning backward to peer out into the hallway. Sure enough, Heather was standing just short of the meeting room glass, pressed against the wall as if it made her less conspicuous. Her LED was blinking yellow as she reached out to ping him but after seeing she officially had his attention, she frantically waved him over like a schoolgirl and then darted back through the gate to the lobby.

Hank walked over to him with his coffee in his hand. He took a sip and glanced over to see what had caught his partner’s attention. He managed to catch sight of Heather right before she disappeared around the corner and snorted into his coffee cup.

“Those girls are like high school teenagers sometimes,” he stated in a teasing tone.

“She wants my attention,” Connor informed. Hank nodded, swallowing his coffee and pointed to his own temple.

“Yeah, I kinda guessed.”

Connor subconsciously reached up and rubbed his LED. It must have been blinking yellow from Heather’s page.

“Well, go on!” Hank said, motioning towards the lobby with his coffee cup. “Go talk to ‘em. If you don’t, they’ll be buzzing around your desk all day.”

Connor looked confused, his eyebrows drew together and a slight frown formed on his face.

“I thought you were going to address the secondary precinct issue in the meeting room?” That was what Hank had said, after all. Hank shrugged.

“Well, yeah, but that doesn’t mean that you need to be there for it. They aren’t new recruits or nothing. They just need space and maybe equipment.” He motioned towards the meeting room, specifically several trolleys with disconnected computer monitors and terminals that had been haphazardly shoved in one of the corners. “Looks like they brought some of their own shit over too, which is good. Less we have to share. Really, Connor. It isn’t a big deal. Go see what they want.”

_Make friends_ was the underlying message there. Hank had been trying to encourage him to branch out. He especially wanted him to make more android friends. Probably because android friends knew more about android _problems_. Hank wanted him to have more people to go to should he ever need to talk about things that Hank himself couldn’t relate to. He wanted Connor to socialize more; especially within his own species.

Which was coming from a guy whose main company was an android and a dog, but yeah, _Connor_ needed friends.

For once, Connor didn’t protest. He sighed an exaggerated sigh, heavy on the exhale.

“Fine,” he groaned and marched back towards the front of the precinct. He didn’t need to look behind him to know that Hank was grinning like an idiot.

Despite his disinterest in conversing with the two androids, he straightened up and offered a smile as he walked back through the gate; hoping to at least look somewhat happy to see them.

“Hello, Heather,” Connor started. “Did you need something?”

Haley was next to Heather in an instant. She had been trying to peer around the structures to spy on the added population in the precinct but her vantage point was blocked behind too much wall to get an actual view. Both girls were looking at Connor with wide smiles as if they were expecting something from him. He wasn’t sure what that was, so he continued to just stare back until Heather finally caved and asked:

“Well…?”

“Well…?” Connor tried because he really didn’t know what Heather wanted from him. “Well, what?”

Heather huffed in mock annoyance and leaned over the counter, supporting herself on her forearms.

“What’s with all the traffic, Don Don?”

About a month ago, a woman had come into the precinct to report a missing purse that she believed had been stolen by her ex-boyfriend. She had brought her two-year-old daughter with her while she was giving her report and Heather had taken it upon herself to entertain the little girl: essentially distract her so her mother could focus on giving her statement without worrying about her child. Heather had walked the toddler around the precinct, giving her a tour of the bullpen and introducing her to all of her ‘favorite people’ and of course, Connor had been on that list.

The little girl’s limited vocabulary made it difficult for her to say his full name; however, instead, calling him ‘Don Don’ which Heather had found so hilariously adorable that she immediately adopted it. Connor was not very amused, but he stopped correcting her about a week ago when it became apparent that she wasn’t going to stop. That and Hank started catching on that the nickname was annoying him and was starting to use it too. His best option was to just drop the issue entirely. Heather could call him the stupid name. Besides, Gavin usually called him way worse.

“Southeast Precinct has flooding damage,” he informed the two. “We are to share office space with them until they can get their building repaired.”

“Oh, _boo!_ ” Haley said, making a thumbs down motion with her right hand at the same time that Heather blew a raspberry in displeasure.

“Why can’t they go cramp up someone else’s space? This is _our_ dysfunctional family!” Heather whined. Connor couldn’t help but tilt his head in confusion at that.

“I’m sorry… our what? What do you mean by that?”

Heather giggled and walked towards the glass doors that divided the lobby from the actual precinct. Connor followed her and when they were no longer separated by the front desk, she surprised him by hooking her right arm around his, locking their elbows and pressing close to his frame.

“Just look!” she said, ignoring how rigid his body had gotten as she hugged his arm and pulled him so they were standing in front of the gates, but didn’t go through them. She pointed at Fowler’s empty office. “Captain Fowler is the grumpy grandpa that is never pleased and constantly disappointed in everyone.”

Haley nodded as she joined them, coming up on Connor’s right side and mimicking Heather by hugging his right arm. Haley pointed to Detective Collins who was leaving the breakroom with a breakfast bagel in one hand and a coffee in the other.

“Benny is the sweet dad that has no idea what is going on but is proud of everyone anyway.”

Heather pointed to Hank who was now in the meeting room, talking at the podium and seemingly asking the newcomers what Central Station could do to help them out.

“Hank is the sweet dad that _does_ know what’s going on and is a total anxious mess because of it.” That earned a snort out of Connor. It encouraged the girls to continue. Haley pointed at Officer Miller who was still leaning against the wall next to Detective Reed.

“Chris is the sweet brother that is constantly trying to cheer everyone up!”

That was certainly true. He was trying to cheer Gavin up right now.

“Gavin is the obnoxious older brother that picks on you for literally no reason, but secretly has your back when he thinks no one’s looking.”

Connor couldn’t help the dubious expression that immediately formed on his face.

“Gavin?” He snorted in utter disbelief.

“Oh, yes!” Haley said while Heather nodded an affirmative. “But _only_ when he thinks no one is paying attention. Which is not at all often.”

Connor’s confused expression was absolutely comical and it caused both girls to burst into giggles. He blinked it away and looked down at the two.

“You guys have _way_ too much time on your hands up here,” he said, earning another round of childish giggles from them both. “What about everyone else?”

He couldn’t see too much of the bullpen from where they were, but there were several more employees and officers the girls hadn’t mentioned.

“We only ranked the people that talk to us,” Haley said with a half shrug. “There are too many people we don’t work with and too many that just ignore us for us to want to label everyone.”

“Like Officer Wilson!” Heather snickered behind her hand, her voice went mockingly deep as she impersonated him. _“Stop yapping at me! I’m going out for lunch! It’s the only thing I show up for work for! Rah, rah, rah!”_

Connor wasn’t sure he understood the joke but Haley was laughing so hard, she had let go of his arm. Heather let go soon after, groaning and leaning up against the side of the front desk.

“Ugh! Now we have even _more_ people running around. So many names and faces,” she rolled her eyes and sighed in irritation. As an afterthought, she added, “There aren’t even any other androids here.”

_That_ was something that Connor hadn’t noticed, but now that it was brought to his attention it was clear as day. Every single person in this building, save the three of them, was human.

“It could just be a scheduling thing,” Connor started even though he didn’t believe it himself. Haley, Heather, and Connor always seemed to fall under the same shifts, but there _were_ more androids that worked here. The more likely scenario was that there weren’t any android employees in Southeast.

“Excuse me,” a voice said behind them, breaking the three out of their thoughts. Haley and Heather straightened up in an instant. Both girls’ cheeks were dusted blue from being caught off guard while doing something so unprofessional.

“How can we help you?” They asked in unplanned unison. They quickly exchanged confused glances before turning back to the man before them.

He was dressed in a nice suit and tie, a badge clipped to the left side of his belt and a gun holstered on the right: an officer. Connor absentmindedly scanned him, a habit he never quite broke out of during his pre-deviancy days but the results made him freeze in his tracks.

**Lt. Price, Andrew**  
Born: 7/13/1990 // Police Lieutenant  
Criminal Record: None*

So this was Lieutenant Price? The man that both Hank and Gavin had expressed disdain for? Connor found his interest instantly piqued, though he tried to hide the excitement that suddenly crawled through his frame. Even more interesting, he had never had a background check come up with an asterisk before. There weren’t any options for him to dive deeper into that. Normally he could search extended databases to see what that meant. If he had to take a guess, he would assume that it had meant the record had been expunged. But then he would be assuming again and he already didn’t like that feeling. He’d have to look into it later.

Lieutenant Price was smiling when he was addressing the girls, an unusual flash of emotion flickering in his features as he took in their appearances. He actually looked them up and down, with a widening smile until he noticed the blinking LEDs on their temples.

“Oh!” He blinked in surprise. “Oh! I’m sorry. I thought you were…”

He trailed off, his attention flickering over to Connor and then Connor’s temple before his eyes widened and a strange look of confusion seemed to wash over his features. It didn’t last long, however, and after a moment, he was straightening himself out and clearing his throat, prepared to try again. His voice was a lot more authoritative the second go-around.

“Where are your designated android Tell-Uniforms?”

All three of them blinked in surprise, taken aback. Tell-Uniforms hadn’t been mandatory for androids since the abolishment of the American Android Act nearly two years ago. Connor was rarely at a loss for words, but he’d be lying if he said that that question hadn’t thrown him off a bit. He saw Haley’s LED flash yellow before he heard her voice in his head:

_:: Is he for real? ::_

_:: I don’t even have my uniform. I cut it up and made a new top. ::_ Heather said, apparently having joined the conversation.

_:: I burned mine. ::_ Haley added.

_:: Lieutenant Anderson threw mine out of the car on the freeway. ::_

Both girls looked up at Connor with mild amusement. He gave a sheepish grin back. The action did not go unnoticed by Price.

“Excuse me?” he asked. He was growing impatient, though he appeared to be oblivious to the private conversation the androids were having about him. “I asked you three a question. Why are you not in uniform?”

“Androids are no longer required to wear Tell-Uniforms, Lieutenant Price,” Connor informed. He had noticed that the girls were standing a lot closer to him than they were before. Price was making them uncomfortable. He couldn’t really blame them. The Lieutenant’s words suggested he was chastising them but his facial expressions and body posture were friendly.

“In households and nonemergency work environments, that may be true,” he said with a smile, “but I would think that the Detroit City _Police_ Department qualifies as emergency work. Wouldn’t you?” The question was asked like an insult. As if they would be stupid to disagree with him. He was still smiling.

Connor's processors were quick to supply him with the word:

**Condescending** [kon-d _uh-_ **sen** -ding]: _adj_

  1. showing or implying a usually patronizing descent from dignity or superiority



With that definition in mind, Connor responded with a smug smirk.

“For the officers and first responders, certainly,” he said, mimicking both the tone and posture Price was demonstrating. “But for the _secretaries_ and _investigators…_ no. Not at all.”

The man stared at Connor like he was waiting for a punchline to a joke but if Price was trying to see who would crack first he picked the wrong opponent. Connor could literally do this all day.

Finally, the lieutenant inhaled deeply as if to calm himself from an anger he wasn’t outwardly expressing.

“Well… we’ll certainly see about changing that soon, now won’t we?” His faux smile was back and he dipped his head in dismissal before escorting himself to the gate… that didn’t open for him.

He scanned his card several times, each swipe met with a buzz of rejection. Heather, unimpressed, peeled the skin back on her left hand so she could interact with the terminal on her desk. The gate opened up shortly after and the three androids watched the frustrated lieutenant push past it and into the precinct with way more force than necessary.

“What a prick,” Haley said after the man was a safe distance away. Heather looked at Connor and latched onto his arm again. The skin on her hand fizzled back into place.

“Thanks, Don Don!” she said, playfully resting her head against his bicep. “You’re my hero.”

Connor gave her a meek, uncomfortable smile and pat her shoulder in hopes of both comforting her and trying to coax her off of him. She got the hint and let go, her smile never wavering.

“I should probably get to work, guys. It was good talking to you!” Connor said. He never was sure how to go about dismissing himself.

“Of course, Connor!” Haley said. “We love talking to you!”

Connor was pretty sure they loved talking to _anyone_ , but he would just take their word for it. He offered an awkward wave goodbye and a warm smile before walking through the gate that opened immediately. The girls watched him leave before Heather let out a loud, frustrated groan and dramatically planted her face on her workstation, her long hair splayed across the desk’s surface covering most of it.

“God, he’s so fucking cute,” she said, her voice slightly muffled. Haley snorted in amusement.

“He’s outta your league, sister. Way out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a cousin named Connor who my two-year-old son calls Don Don for the same reasons I had described with the little girl. I simply had to add it!
> 
> (I also have a brother named Gavin--haha!).
> 
> I apologize for any and all grammatical errors, spelling mistakes, or overall confusion you may have stumbled upon thus far. I'm always coming back to edit the little things, but still... if you see something, I'm sorry!
> 
> Anyway, thank you SO much for reading, you guys! I really appreciate it! You're the absolute best!


	2. Chapter 2

Hank couldn’t help the idiotic grin on his face as he watched Connor sulk off towards the lobby to talk to the two receptionists. He tried to hide it in his coffee cup, but it came back full force when he saw his android straighten up and smile as he walked through the front gate. Connor had come so far in the short amount of time Hank had known him, but the kid still struggled with his self-worth and confidence. It was to be expected. Truthfully, most of Connor’s concerns were problems that even Hank, himself, had doubts with. But Connor had been enslaved to a sadistic puppeteer and forced to do things against his will and Hank… couldn’t really relate to that.

He had contemplated getting the kid a therapist, but he wasn’t sure how he felt with the idea of a shrink messing around with Connor’s head. It would _have_ to be a human. Hank had thought long and hard about this while pretending to watch sporting events, staring up at the ceiling and trying to go to bed, or when he found Connor who had been sobbing to the point of hysterics on the kitchen floor because Sumo wanted a treat and Connor had forgotten to pick them up (that wasn’t the _actual_ reason the kid had melted down, but it was what had caused him to boil over for sure).

No, it would have to be a human for several reasons. Connor reacted differently when a human praised him than he did when it was another android. Granted, he loved all types of praise, regardless of who it was coming from, but when a human did it, it meant more to him. It got through to him. He actually _believed it_.

It went back to Connor’s old programming. He had been built to please, specifically made for human integration and tasked with the capture and dehumanization of his own species. Which is why Connor felt more comfortable around humans than he did with other androids. Deviancy did nothing to distort that.

Because of this, Hank tried very hard not to give Connor direct orders. He had gotten much better the more Hank worked with him, but occasionally Hank would say something in jest or ask a question while he was in a bad mood and Connor would almost ‘switch off’ his very being, leaving Hank with nothing but a computer to talk to until he could coax the kid back.  

Sympathy was not hard to come by in regards to other androids. Hank had been present during several conversations with others who were upset and talked about the same concerns that Connor had addressed with him. The lieutenant had thought that that might cheer the kid up, knowing that other androids felt scared or alone after deviating and that he wasn't alone in those thoughts, but his attempts were usually dismissed with a sad smile or a soft, ‘that’s good to know’. Hank thought it had fallen under the first point: that Connor took advice more seriously if it were coming from a human. But Connor… _Fucking Connor._

Hank had managed to schedule a ‘play-date’ of sorts with a few members of Jericho after the lieutenant had asked around and managed to gain an audience with one of Markus’ advisors: an android named Josh. Josh was apparently acting as a therapist for androids and was working with several of them that were having similar difficulties adjusting to their newfound freedom and deviancy. He had been excited that Hank had asked him for help, even more so that it was _Connor_ who needed said help because (and Hank didn’t know this) Connor was Markus’ Third-In-Command, a very trusted confidant to the Jericho leader, and considered a valued and highly respected member of the android community.

Hank knew Connor had helped out significantly with the revolution, but he hadn’t known Connor had earned a _rank_. Hank had been proud of the kid before but after learning that, he felt so damn giddy that he was tempted to slap a ‘My Kid Won a Revolution!’ bumper sticker on the back of his car.

The group therapy session, however, didn’t go as planned. They had grossly underestimated Connor’s insecurities. He had almost worked the other androids up to self-destruction with his questions. It had taken both Josh and Hank nearly an hour to calm the other three down. Connor, in his guilt, had shoved himself into a far corner; back against the wall, legs splayed out in a ‘V’ with his arms at his sides, muttering apologizes over and over and over again with a blank, tear-stained face until Hank could get to him.

It wasn’t anyone’s fault. Even the androids that had been so stressed by Connor’s inquiries had agreed on that. It had done _nothing_  to convince the kid.

He had refused to say a word until Hank agreed to take him home. His LED remained a steady red and a quivering frown stayed on his face the entire way back. Silent tears slipped out of his eyes every so often and anything Hank tried to say to comfort him only made them worse.

When they had gotten home and through the front door, they were immediately greeted by Sumo, and Hank had watched his android drop to his knees, pull the Saint Bernard into a tight embrace, and then sob into the dog’s fur. It had been a long night that night, but Hank had eventually managed to get that LED back to blue and a smile on the kid’s face before sending him off to bed.

Josh had been worried and wanted desperately to try again with Connor, this time a one-on-one session with Hank if Connor wanted but Connor had outright refused. Now, he kept coming up with lame excuses to avoid going to Jericho all together, alienating himself from his own species as if he was an illness to them, even going so far as avoiding androids in general.

It broke Hank’s heart.

Which is why when Haley and Heather started working at the precinct and Connor actually _talked_ to them, Hank made sure to encourage any interactions that he could. If Hank were being honest with himself, he was pretty sure it had more to do with the fact that they were Connor’s coworkers, conversing with them was part of his job, and the girls weren’t asking him in-depth and incriminating questions about his darkest fears than it did with Connor actually _wanting_ to befriend them, but Hank was never one to miss an opportunity. His hopes were that he could encourage Connor to work his way back up to Jericho.

That, and he was pretty sure Heather had a crush on the kid. If the feeling was even a little bit mutual (for the love of all that was holy, Hank couldn’t tell), then the lieutenant was always happy to be a wingman.

He took another sip of his coffee and then went into the meeting room, passing Gavin and Chris on his way in and making a point to look them in the face: a silent reminder to behave.

“Alright, ya, hooligans, calm down!” he shouted over the chatter. The officers in the room all turned to give him their attention. “I’m Lieutenant Hank Anderson. I am the acting captain of this precinct while Fowler is out. I understand that you lot were shoved here on very short notice, so to make integrations as painless as possible, I would appreciate it if you could tell me what you need from us to keep everything running for both our departments. Specifics are usually terminal access which all your regular logins should work just fine with ours. Obviously, you’re not going to have access to evidence that had been in your previous precinct, but it looks like you brought some of your own gear over?” He paused and pointed to the equipment he had noticed earlier. The two men that were standing next to it turned to inspect the trolley and then back at Anderson before nodding.

“Yeah, we managed to salvage a good amount of stuff. We just need somewhere to hook it up so we don’t have to all crowd around your machines,” One of the men said. He wasn’t wearing a badge, but he spoke as if he was a part of Southeast’s department.

IT maybe?

“Perfect,” Hank said, meaning it. Hopefully, their guests were competent enough to do whatever they needed to do by themselves and stay out of his precinct’s hair. “We also have plenty of supplies so everything can be done on paper or through a tablet, but if it comes down to it and I have to pair you up with my guys, we can easily do that too. Your acting captain should be here soon and obviously, you are to listen to him the same way you would if you were in your own office, but if you need help with anything, please let one of us know. We’re all DPD—same team, guys.”

God, he hoped this was going to go smoothly. If there was any relief to all of this, it was that he wasn’t specifically in charge of this team. He chanced a glance by the doorway to check on Miller and Reed and was surprised that both were looking up at him and paying attention to what he was saying.

“All-in-all, I’m sure it ain’t going to be much different than what you’re used to. Any questions?”

Several hands shot up at once and Hank couldn’t help the snort of amusement he gave.

“Wow, really? Alright, uh… yes?”

“Do you know when Lieutenant Price is going to get here?” a female officer asked. Hank shook his head, absent-mindedly glancing over at Gavin again. The detective’s attention was back to the lobby gates.

“Uh… no. I don’t. I don’t really talk to the guy. I’m sure he’ll take over the second he arrives.”

Hank at least fucking hoped so.

“Um… sir? Lieutenant?”

It was the IT-looking men again, the second one this time. A Pakistani man with dark hair a bit longer than Connor’s, neatly combed and presentable. He spoke with an accent, but his English was crystal clear.

“Is it true that you have android employees working here?” he asked as if he already knew the answer, giddy and excited but waiting for the definite confirmation. Several heads turned to see who had asked out of curiosity only to scoff and roll their eyes shortly afterward.

“Leave it to Hazeem to get a robot hard-on,” a voice in the back said teasingly causing several officers to laugh. Hazeem seemed unaffected by his colleagues, instead staring expectantly at Hank.

“Uh…” Hank started, a little off-put by the guy’s excitement.  “Yes, there are several android employees that work here,” Hank said with slight hesitance. Hazeem’s face lit up in an instant and Hank quickly felt the need to add, “I would appreciate it if I didn’t get any complaints from them.”

That earned a snort from the same officer who had made the ‘robot hard-on’ comment. The man had a badge and gun, but no standard uniform. He was most likely a detective.

“Good luck with that!” he said, a slight chuckle escaping his throat.

 _Oh, look!_ Hank couldn’t help but think. _They have their own Gavin._

Aloud, he said, “Right. Any more questions?”

Hazeem raised his hand again and a collective groan followed soon after by his entire squad.

“Do you know their models? I would love to know their models.”

Hank stared for a long while before turning back to the group.

“Are there any questions that _don’t_ involve androids?”

Hazeem's hand was in the air again and Hank sighed.

“Yes?”

“Do you have the passwords for the WiFi here?” He reached behind him and pulled a tablet off of the trolley. “It will help us set up the temporary tablets.”

Okay, that was a reasonable request. Hank grabbed his coffee and stepped down from the podium. The audience of officers began to talk again, no longer being directly addressed.

“Yeah, let me see.” He held out his hand and Hazeem handed the device over. “It should be the same as yours but with the department numbers switched out. How many of these do you got?”

The man beside Hazeem, a slightly overweight man with long, dark hair pulled into a low ponytail, turned to take inventory.

“Uh, we got a good amount of tablets and a couple of actual terminals. We might only have to pair up a few of our officers.”

Hank nodded as he scanned over all the devices.

“Um… Lieutenant, sir?” Hazeem started meekly once more.

“Not an android question, right?” Hank asked skeptically. Hazeem shook his head.

“No. Not an android question. Although, would you be opposed if I asked them the questions I have about androids?”

“That’s pretty close to an android question,” Hank said, narrowing his eyes. Hazeem gave a sheepish smile and the lieutenant couldn’t help but sigh. “Fine. Talk to them. They would know your answers a lot better than I would anyway.”

The kid looked beyond giddy, his body was literally trembling with his excitement and a broad smile was across his face. He turned to his partner who gave him a pointed look before Hazeem blinked back to reality.

“Oh! One more request!”

Hank cringed, clearly anticipating the worst.

“Yes?” he braved to ask.

“Captain Hernández had accidentally ordered a garbage disposal for the break room in Southeast, but they had sent us two models by accident and didn’t care to have it sent back. Alan and I managed to save it from the flooding… May we install it here?”

Hank stared at the two of them for a long moment, not quite sure why they looked so excited to install a _garbage disposal_ of all things, but eventually he caved.

“I’ll tell you what, kid. If you can make it so I can buddy-up as few of my department with yours for terminal use, I’ll let you do whatever the hell ya want with the place, okay?” Hank asked, playfully patting the man on the arm. He tuned out Hazeem and Alan as they tried to explain how state-of-the-art this disposal was and how it had the power to shred a multitude of things—not just food, but he waved them off, disinterested.

He looked up to check on Gavin and Chris again. They were gone.

His eyes frantically began sweeping the room for the two. His heart dropping the more the situation sunk in and when he finally found Gavin in the hallway, Connor and Andrew Price were with him.

“Fuck!”

Chris was running down the hall and back into the meeting room. He was in the doorframe, about to inform Hank of the situation, but Hank was already making his way over there.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” the lieutenant swore. Of course, Reed didn’t last twelve fucking seconds after seeing the man. Of fucking course.

 

* * *

 

Price had been standing in the middle of the hall, looking back towards the lobby as Connor walked back through the gate. The android didn’t think anything of it and fully intended to walk past the guest lieutenant and into the meeting room to see if he could catch the remnants of Hank’s meeting, but right as he was level with Price, the man grabbed onto his bicep and pulled him back. The gesture was a little more aggressive than necessary assuming all Price wanted was Connor’s attention, but Connor knew better than to assume.

“Yes, Lieutenant?” he asked, his indifferent tone was not a ruse. Price was not frightening. He was too contradictory for that. Case-in-point was that artificial smile that once again appeared on the lieutenant’s face versus the hand on Connor’s arm that squeezed with a pressure that would hurt if he were human.

“How did you know my name?” Price asked. Connor couldn’t help but tilt his head, his brows creasing together in confusion. Price elaborated, “Back there and just now… I didn’t give it to you. You said it first. How did you know it?”

Connor raised an eyebrow as he searched the man’s face. Price’s heart rate was accelerating, his stress levels were rising with it, but he wasn’t showing any emotion besides that forced smile. Connor had never known a human to convey their fury so well. It was intriguing.

“I’m an android, Lieutenant,” Connor explained with the calculating calm that got on Hank’s nerves. And just because he couldn’t help himself, he added, “How do you think I knew it?”

 _There_ was the emotion! Connor almost laughed in accomplishment but the grip on his arm was now pressing hard enough for a warning to pop up in his HUD. He didn’t actually think the lieutenant could apply enough pressure to do any lasting damage, but he felt it best not to antagonize him further.

“Did you scan me?!” he hissed before quickly looking up, eyes darting around the precinct to make sure no one was listening to him lose his composure. When he spoke again, it was through gritted teeth and barely concealed rage. “Don’t _ever_ do that again.”

Connor was about to tell the lieutenant that there wasn’t a need for him to do it again because it had already been done; however, he didn’t get the chance. The hold the man had on him was abruptly broken by none other than Gavin Reed who had literally chopped his arm between the two of them to break it up.

The detective’s sudden appearance had startled both the android and the lieutenant, but Reed didn’t give either of them time to recover as his next move was to yank Connor away from Price and step in between the two of them. He hadn’t let go of Connor’s sleeve, actually holding the android behind him in what dangerously felt like a protective maneuver.

“Don’t you fucking touch him, you motherfucking dickweed!” Reed spat, a murderous hate was dripping from every word. The hand that was holding onto Connor was shaking. Connor couldn’t help but stare.

Gavin had chosen the spot by the meeting room for a reason. It gave him a clear view of any and all entering personal and he wanted to know the _exact second_ Andrew Price was here. He had no intention of interacting with the man. He didn’t even plan on the confrontation he was currently engaged in, to be honest. All Gavin wanted to do was verify the fucker was here, find out where he was going to be spending the majority of his time so Gavin could stay away from that area, and then stomp away to his desk so he could go back to pretending that the asshole never existed.

But then Price had stopped Connor in the hallway and something in Gavin snapped. He vaguely registered Chris tugging at the hood of his jacket. He might have called after him. He might have followed. Gavin didn’t know.

“Detective Reed!” Price greeted. Gavin’s sudden presence had surprised him but he recovered quickly. “I didn’t see you there. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“Fuck off,” Gavin spat.

“Charming as always,” Price said with a light laugh. He motioned with his hand towards Connor. “I was just discussing with your coworker here that—”

“HEY!”

All three heads whipped up to see Hank leaning out of the meeting room door. When he had their attention, he quickly made his way over, Chris was right behind him. Price’s face lit up.

“Anderson! Just the man I wanted to see. Is there any chance you and I could have a chat somewhere private? There are a few things I would like to discuss with you…” His tone was once again light and professional and towards the end of his statement, his gaze fell back on Gavin. That wormy smile worked its way back on his face.

Gavin growled in irritation, his eyes flashed with something crazed and bloodthirsty, but before he could say anything, Hank had his hand on his chest and was pushing him away from the guest lieutenant.

“Funny, I have a few things I would like to discuss with you too,” Hank snapped. His expression softened considerably when he glanced over to Gavin, searching his face as if making sure nothing had happened to him. He resumed his hostility when he turned back to Price. “Interrogation rooms. Now!”

Price dipped his head in understanding and left to follow Hank who was already making his way to the back to the precinct.

Gavin watched them go, his gaze never left their forms until both men disappeared inside the room down the hall. He finally looked up at Connor as if seeing him for the first time before his attention dropped to his hold on the android’s arm and his expression morphed to irritation.

“The hell you want, Tin Man?” he snapped, though it lacked the usual hostility. His grip turned to a shove before he marched passed the android and towards his desk. Connor turned to Chris (who had also been seemingly forgotten) as if he might have an answer to what had just happened, but the officer simply shrugged.

At least Connor wasn’t the only one confused.

 

* * *

 

Hank opened the door to the police side of the interrogation rooms and ushered Price as if he were a principal in a school about to discipline a student for bullying. The guest lieutenant turned to face Hank who was shutting the door behind him. His demeanor suggested he wanted to get this conversation over with as quickly as possible. Price found this amusing.

“Gavin certainly seems to be doing well—”

“Don’t,” Hank said, holding up his hand to stop the other man. “Don’t you fucking talk about him, douchebag. Don’t talk _to_ him. Don’t even say his fucking name!”

Price scoffed and rolled his eyes as if annoyed.

“Hank, you can’t be serious—”

“Oh, I’m dead fucking serious.” He took a step closer, his index finger extended and pointed in Price’s face. “You leave that kid alone, Price, or so help me—”

“You’ll _what_ , Anderson?” Price asked with a smirk. “Because from where I’m standing, both you and Detective Reed already owe _me_ an apology for that little stunt you two pulled!”

Hank reeled back, aghast and revolted.

“ _Stunt?!_ You think those allegations were a _stunt_?!”

Price shrugged apathetically and crossed his arms.

“ _Obviously_. The end result should attest to that. All the charges were dropped, records expunged to the point of nonexistence, and I get promoted to Lieutenant of Southeast Precinct under Hernández. So, who was really in the wrong that day?”

Hank’s fingers coiled into fists and he fought the urge to punch the man in front of him. He took several deep breaths in an effort to reel in his temper before he managed to speak again.

“You should be rotting in prison.”

“And yet, here I am!” Price said. “It isn’t too surprising, though. Justice prevails to the righteous.”

Hank shook his head in anger and disbelief.

“You’re a disgusting human being, Andy.”

Price rolled his eyes.

“But I _am_ a human being, Anderson,” he said with a smug smirk before his expression turned back to all business. “Which brings me to my topic of discussion, actually. There’s something I needed to address with you and considering we’re going to be working fairly close to one another over the next few weeks—”

“Not that fucking close.”

“—I would like to set some ground rules. Our departments appear to run operations a bit differently and I believe the best course of action would be to set some order and make integration go as smoothly as possible.”

Hank didn’t respond. His arms were crossed over his chest, his lips were twisted into a scowl, and he looked as if he were fighting the urge to attack Andrew.

Regardless of the animosity, Price continued, “The androids—”

“What the fuck about them?”

“Oh, don’t be like that, Hank,” Price said, laughing and waving Hank off as if he had just said a joke. “I think you and I can at least agree on this. I get that the DCPD spent a fortune on those shiny human-looking toys of theirs and I understand that we’re supposed to pretend they’re real or whatever, but why in God’s name are the robots that are here dressed like actual human beings?! It’s insulting, it’s confusing, and it needs to be fixed immediately. Now, I know a tailor who could easily manufacture the standard illuminated uniform—”

“Stop! Stop! Just… fucking stop!” Hank said, his hands waving out in front of him. “Are you fucking kidding me right now? Your department is flooded, you’re in a precinct that is not your own with people that _actually hate you_ and _that_ is your primary concern? What my fucking androids are _wearing?!_ ”

Price’s eyebrows bumped up in amusement.

“ _Your_ androids?”

“Yes! _Mine_! As in _my_ employees, _my_ partner, _my_ roommate, _my_ friends _._ Don’t you fucking _dare_ stand in front of me and tell me how you think Fowler should be running his department. And don’t you think for one goddamn second that I’m going to let you run around and change shit up just because you’re in an acting position.”

Price snorted in mock amusement.

“Well, you’ve certainly changed. Whatever happened to the Hank that would rant for hours about how androids were better off melted and turned into kitchen supplies?”

Hank shook his head.

“It’s not happening, Andy.”

“Hank, be reasonable,” he tried. “We’re both acting captains. If we can improve our stations’ statistics even a fraction, the commissioner will be positively _floored_. Let’s work together and accomplish that. With your skills and record… with my motivation… we’d be immaculate!”

“Counter offer,” Hank said, his voice clipped and cold. “You deal with Southeast and Southeast _only!_ You stay away from Reed. You stay away from all of my employees—human, androids, the fucking K9 unit—all of them! And I can go back to pretending you don’t exist. Because so help me, God, Andy, if I find out you have given anyone _any_ shit, I can _promise_ you it will NOT go down like it did the last time. Even if I have to beat the fuck out of you myself.”

If Andrew had said anything in response to that, Hank didn’t know. He slammed the door shut on his way out and was fuming the entire way to his desk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the love and support, you guys! You genuinely made my day! 
> 
> I apologize for any and all grammatical errors, spelling mistakes, or overall confusion you may have stumbled upon thus far.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

The content that was displayed on Connor’s monitor was not what he was actually looking at. A while ago, he had tricked his machine into thinking it had two displays: the terminal on his desk being the first screen and (after some light reworking in his processor) his HUD as the other.

He normally used it for multitasking. Connor would have new assignments on one screen while he searched through the DPD database on the other. The side-by-side comparison helped out significantly, and it usually allowed him to make connections faster than he would have if he had to download or search through the two separately.

Right now, though, Connor was using it to snoop. He couldn’t help himself after the bizarre encounter he had just had with Gavin. The DPD database was on his terminal, a script running through it to make it seem as if he were actually interacting with it. In truth, all of his attention was on his HUD. He had created a file specifically for Lieutenant Andrew Price and was filling it with all the information that he currently knew about the man:

 **Lt. Price, Andrew**  
Born: 7/13/1990 // Police Lieutenant  
Criminal Record: None*

> Transferred approximately six months ago to Southeast Police Precinct

> Promoted with the transfer from Detective – Lieutenant

 _Transferred from where, though?_ He ran a quick search and added the results:

> Southwest – Southeast

_Wait... No._

>  _Central_  – Southwest – Southeast

Price had moved from West to East through a promotion, but the current lieutenant had started working for the DPD  _here_ in Central. His original transfer was in 2034, six years ago, and he would have been just a detective then.

With Gavin.

Connor dimmed the webpage windows in his vision so he could see the real world again, specifically the detective in question. Gavin wasn’t even pretending to work. His head was being supported by his hand, propped up like a kickstand on his desk. He was facing his computer, but the monitor had fallen asleep from inactivity a while ago and all of Reed’s attention was on a pen in his free hand that he was angrily clicking on, off, on, off, on—

Reed and the precinct disappeared behind the databases and windows that sharpened into Connor’s view as he illuminated them once more. A quick search of Price’s home addresses over the course of the last ten years showed that the lieutenant had purchased a single-family home in 2031 and hadn’t relocated since then.

So then what was the reason for the original transfer? It clearly wasn’t a promotion, as he had just recently obtained that and it wasn’t because he had moved closer to Southwest…

Connor found his attention darting back to that infuriating asterisk: Criminal Record: None*

Why did he feel like that was the answer? 

He reopened the first tab he had searched through after deciding to investigate: the DCPD Backgrounds and Records Database. Ideally, it was a more in-depth search engine than his generic, surface-level one he normally ran upon meeting people. Even expunged records should show up here and be notified as such but there was nothing. The page was blank.

It was… annoying. Connor was annoyed. There was no reason this should be this difficult.

He was just about to admit defeat for sake of sanity, but something at the bottom of the page had caught his eye:

_Last-Modified: Thu, 08 Apr 2034 17:27:57 EDT_

There was that year again: 2034. The same year that Price left Central. It most likely wasn’t a coincidence. Conclusion?

// Incident happened in 2034

_But what was the incident?_

Price’s criminal record (assuming he had one) had been altered and erased in the archives. Well, not entirely true. There was a high chance that the only thing that had been deleted was metadata and not the data itself, but Connor had no way to access an on-site server without physically being on-site himself.

He leaned back in his chair to look into the crowded meeting room, once again minimizing the open tabs in his HUD. Two men, presumably IT, were organizing the trolleys that Southeast had brought over. His attention landed on a 2U server box, empty of the rack. Would Price’s history be on Southeast’s server?

Or better yet…

His gaze drifted over towards Captain Fowler’s empty office, landing on the terminal. What were the chances of Price still being on file here?

He was broken from that thought after noticing Hank approaching. He looked livid and Connor felt a pang of concern in his chest at the sight. He quickly started closing windows, blinking them away to prepare to disconnect (they would all jump to his terminal otherwise, and he sure as hell didn’t want  _that_  to happen).

When his HUD was cleared, he pulled his hand away from his keyboard, disconnecting from it entirely. The action halted the script on his terminal and it no longer randomly pretended to work for him.

“Hello, Lieutenant,” Connor greeted. He noticed Price leaving the interrogation room shortly after Hank sat down. The Southeast Lieutenant looked just as irritated as Hank did. He trudged down the hallway to join the rest of his department with a sour expression on his face and when he got to the meeting room, he actually kicked the doorstopper away and shut the door.

“Hey, you okay?” Hank asked and Connor immediately jolted to look at him. Hank looked incredibly concerned and Connor wasn’t sure why. He tilted his head in hopes of clarification and Hank pointed to his own temple. "You were yellow for a while… and doing that weird eye thing."

Hank had seen him disconnect. Apparently, when he disconnected from his computer after acting as the second screen for it, his eyes rolled back and he blinked rapidly like ‘he was fucking possessed or some shit.'

“Oh, yes. I’m fine. Just… running some system checks,” he said and then held two thumbs up with an awkward smile. “All clear!”

He didn’t like lying to Hank, but this wasn’t the first time he had used his duel screens to work on things that the man wouldn’t approve of. Hank continued to stare at him as if making sure he was telling the truth but seemed to accept the answer as he huffed out a long sigh and pulled his hand down his face. He looked tired and annoyed and Connor fought the urge to fidget. It was going to be hard to keep alcohol from Hank tonight, he could already feel it.

“So, what did the girls want?”

Connor tilted his head again before he understood who the lieutenant was talking about.

“Oh! Just… being nosy,” he started until his gaze fell back on his terminal and he remembered what he was doing just moments before. He cringed at his own hypocrisy and felt the sudden need to correct himself. “I mean… they just wanted to know what was happening with Southeast.”

Hank nodded, absent-mindedly chewing on his lip. He leaned back in his chair, interlacing his fingers and placing his hands atop his head while he looked over at the glass room.

“I’m still trying to figure that out myself,” he said. Connor looked over too.

Several officers were passing around paper notebooks with writing utensils. One of the men he had observed from before, a longhaired brunet with a low ponytail (he was either IT or a hippy, Connor was too far away for a facial scan but he was going with the former), was handing out electronic tablets after seemingly setting them to work on Central Station’s network. Price was walking around the trolleys and inspecting the equipment with a sense of paranoid curiosity. He would occasionally pick up a tablet and glare at it as if it had just insulted him.

“Shit, I think I left my coffee in there,” Hank grumbled. The hands that were on his head lazily stretched skyward, a yawn followed shortly afterward. Connor immediately jumped to attention.

“Oh… The meeting room? I can go get—”

“No,” Hank snapped. “I don’t want you running errands for me just because I’m a lazy piece of shit.”

“You’re not a piece of shit…” Connor mumbled. He coiled in on himself, his shoulders pulling up as if to hide behind them and a clear pout was on the android’s lips. Hank laughed.

“Still not happening, kiddo. Besides...” He nodded his head in the direction of the Southeast Police Department while standing up to seemingly get himself more coffee. “I don’t want you in there.”

Connor looked back at the meeting room and frowned.

“I was under the impression we were to work  _with_  Southeast, Lieutenant,” Connor said. He was honestly confused about that. Hank had warned him about Price, but Southeast was going to be bunking with them for a while. Avoidance was impossible.

Hank inhaled slowly, his eyes never leaving the glass of the meeting room as he mulled an idea over in his head. After a moment, he seemed to decide on something, nodding and looking over at his android.

“Yeah, we are. We are. But... can you do me a favor? Please?”

Connor perked up, a smile threatening to spread across his face as he struggled to gain control of his twitching lips.

“Yes, of course!”

“Can you stay away from them?”

Connor stared for a moment, processing the request before his entire frame deflated in dejection.

“Oh. I… oh.”

Connor knew how overwhelmed the lieutenant could get when it came to too many people buzzing around his desk, with never-ending demands and requests and questions, and, truthfully, Connor had been looking forward to helping ease the stress a bit. He had been looking forward to helping in general.

…He had been looking forward to being useful.

Connor had been having a hard time with that lately. He was absolutely useless to his own species and was currently in a weird limbo of self-banishment after nearly killing three of them by his stupid, fucked up logic. He was useless to Hank who rarely gave him any orders, chores, or direction leaving him with little to do at home. And now… now, Hank didn’t want him near Southeast? He would be useless at work too!

An unpleasant feeling started to pool in the pit of Connor’s stomach but he couldn’t identify what it was. It was bringing the familiar ache of anxiety with it and Connor had to fight the urge to rub at his chest in hopes of making it go away.

His distress must have been showing in his expression because Hank was suddenly walking around their desks to stand in front of him.

“Hey, don’t look so disappointed. You’re not going to be missing out on anything, I’m sure of it,” he started to joke but the effort was in vain. He swallowed and tried again in a more serious tone, “I have no real say over their department, kid. You already know I can’t stand their acting captain. I don’t know what he’s told them they can or can’t do. I just… I would feel more comfortableif you stayed away from them.”

Disappointed. Hank had said he looked disappointed. He had to look up examples of the meaning and the definition did seem to match his current mood. However, disappointment was a negative emotion. He didn’t like that Hank had been the one to trigger it. Hank was  _never_  associated with negative emotions. It was unnerving and making his anxiety worse. He couldn’t look Hank in the face.

“Stop that,” Hank said, tapping Connor’s LED that was a steady, solid yellow. “Stop that. That is  _not_ what I meant. I don’t want them around you, son. I don’t trust them near you because I care about you and I don’t want people I don’t like near you.”

Connor nodded that he understood, but he still hadn’t looked at Hank and the color of his LED hadn’t even flickered to something else. Hank ducked down to better catch his android’s attention. When he was sure he had it, he reached his hand out in front of him, rotated it so his palm was facing up, and then looked at Connor expectantly.

It was an android gesture. Developed and evolved over a two-year course of explored deviancy. Connor had excitedly taught him it one night after Hank had questioned what it meant when androids held hands.

 _“Seems kinda… I don’t know, intimate?”_  he had asked, looking to Connor for verification. They had been on Hank’s couch, watching television and a commercial of two humans holding hands had made Hank think of the android equivalent. Connor, always happy to answer questions, had nodded an affirmative.

 _“It can be,”_   he had said.  _“Well, it is but it depends on how you do it.”_

He had started to wring his hands in the fidgety way he got when he was unsure if he was allowed to do something. Finally, he caved, feeling that it was worth being reprimanded if Hank disapproved. Not that Hank would have been able to say ‘no’ to him after that display.

Connor had removed the skin on both of his hands, pulling the synthetic casing down to his elbows and readjusting his seating so he could better face Hank. He had pressed his palms together as if he was praying.

 _“Vertical is for lovers,”_  Connor had explained _. “Vertical and palms touching. The way that North and Markus do it.”_ He then folded his arms down so he was now gripping his own forearms.  _“Acquaintances and strangers are sideways and forearms,”_   he informed and then pulled his arms out until his hands slid into each other, mimicking a standard human handshake. _“Friends are sideways and palms touching.”_

Hank had nodded in understanding.

 _“Who knew there was so much to say about holding hands?”_   he had asked, a smile on his face.  _“Palms touching is more intimate, huh?”_

Connor’s gaze had drifted skyward as he thought about how best to answer the question.

_“Sort of… but, there’s more to it than just the way you hold hands. Intimacy really depends on the connection. Whether you’re probing or interfacing. Probing is more of a one-sided, hand-off of information while interfacing is kind of like sharing or merging… if that… makes sense.”_

He had dropped his arms into his lap, his gaze followed soon afterward, and his cheeks and nose were turning blue. He was losing confidence in explaining the gesture now that the emotions behind it were coming into the definition and it was embarrassing him.

Hank knew this was the reason for the blush on his android’s face, but he just couldn’t help himself.

 _“You ever interface with someone?”_  he asked with a sly smirk. He watched the blue on Connor’s face grow significantly darker. The android hastily shook his head.

_“No. I haven’t.”_

Hank had laughed at that, earning himself a playfully embarrassed shove from his android who grabbed a couch pillow so he could hide behind it. When Hank sobered, a thought had occurred to him.

_“What about family? How does family do it?”_

Connor had peeked from behind his cover looking both surprised and interested. The blue hadn’t faded entirely from his face, and he blinked several times as if he was trying to see if Hank was still teasing him or if he had heard the question right.

 _“Fam-Family?”_  Connor had choked out and then reset his vocalizer.  _“Uh… yeah. Yes. Family does it horizontally.”_

 _“With palms?”_ Hank had asked, catching onto the pattern.

 _“Yes… yes, with palms. Palms up and down…”_ Connor had said, hugging the pillow and toying with the bottom corner.

Hank offered his hand, palm up, and Connor’s eyes widened. He opened and closed his mouth several times, failing to produce any words.

 _“Really?”_  Connor had asked after several attempts. His voice had been too meek for Hank’s heart to handle.  _“But… we can’t… I can’t…”_

They couldn’t connect, was what he was trying to say. They couldn’t connect because Hank was not an android. But that information was obviously something that Hank knew and for once, Connor didn’t feel the need to voice the obvious.

Hank had bounced his arm up and down in encouragement and had been watching his android expectantly. Connor reached out hesitantly, his hand had trembled as it hovered over Hank’s. He bloomed his fingers across Hank’s skin as he lowered it, pressing down until their palms were touching. Hank had smiled, eyebrows raised in curiosity.

 _“Like that?”_  he had asked and had to look up at Connor because the kid hadn’t answered. Connor was very tense; shoulders drawn up, lip trembling, eyes wide and watery, and attention locked onto their hands. He quickly nodded an affirmative, clearly not trusting his voice.

Hank had smiled and let out a soft, breathy chuckle.

 _“Family, son,”_  he had said.  _“Don’t you ever forget that.”_

Hank doubted the kid was going to. Connor tended to latch onto any form of affection or endearment which was unfortunate because Hank was so terrible at showing his love for him.

And he did love Connor.

He loved him enough to risk his job by punching an FBI agent in the face, loved him enough to seek out therapy options because he worried about him and wanted him to be happy, and he definitely loved him enough to show open displays of his affection in the middle of the workplace by offering his hand for the kid to hold in hopes of getting his point across.

Connor stared at Hank’s hand with an expression of surprise and admiration. His synthetic breath caught in his throat for a heartbeat or two before he peeled the skin back on the opposite hand that Hank was offering and gradually returned the gesture.

Hank sometimes wished he could do the second part: the connection. If only to help Connor truly understand how he felt about him and what he meant when he made such requests. But since he couldn’t do that, he had to rely on his words.

“I know you can take care of yourself,” he started, trying so very hard to get his point across. “I know you could kick all of their asses. I  _know_ that, kid. I know that. I just… don’t want them near you. They have no right or reason to be anywhere near you. I would feel better if you could do this for me? I would feel better  _knowing_  that you were safe. Do you… do you understand, son?”

Connor’s attention remained on their hands, but the android nodded. He still felt disappointed, but it wasn’t as strong as it had been a few moments before and the anxiety was gone entirely.

Hank didn’t break the contact. His attention remained on Connor’s LED which was still yellow but it was no longer constant, breaking up every now and then and even flickering blue a few times.

“Thank you,” he said, giving Connor a lopsided grin. Connor snorted, finally looking at Hank and offering a small smile.

“Excuse me, Lieutenant Anderson?” A female officer from Southeast asked. She was approaching them with uncertainty, leaning forward to either gain Hank’s attention or verify that Hank was who she was really looking for. She was clutching a Manilla folder to her chest and had a wary smile on her face before noticing the scene she was walking in on. “Oh! Uh… Sorry, I didn’t...”

“Can I help you?” Hank asked. Connor pulled his hand away and shoved both his arms in his lap.

“Yes.” She held out the folder for him to take. “A homicide case had ended up with us but it falls under your district. I wasn’t exactly sure who I should give it to.”

Hank stared at the file for a moment before his eyes flicked over to Gavin. The detective was aggressively stabbing a piece of paper with a pen, a violent look gleamed in his eye that probably shouldn’t be present on a member of law enforcement, but Hank couldn’t blame the kid for his state of mind at the moment.

“Give it to Reed, please,” Hank said, pointing to Gavin. “He needs a distraction.”

The officer nodded in understanding and then headed over to Gavin. Hank turned back to Connor and offered him a warm smile.

“I’m going to go get my coffee now. You okay?” he asked. Connor nodded. “Good. Be right back, alright. Then maybe we can actually get some work done.”

He playfully patted Connor on the arm and then turned to head into the breakroom. Connor watched him leave and then his eyes flicked back to the meeting room.

Hank didn’t want Connor near Southeast, but Southeast wasn’t _really_ the problem. He knew who Hank was worried about. Who Hank really didn’t want him around.

But he didn’t know _why_.

And man, did he really want to…

 

* * *

 

Gavin knew his obsessive clicking was pissing a few of his coworkers off, but no one dared to say anything to him about stopping. A small part of him wished that someone would. He was playing out fantasy scenarios in his head, confrontations that turned to physical altercations, all of it misplaced aggression that his grief therapist from six years ago told him wasn’t healthy. Fuck her. Anger helped him more than talking about his shitty problems ever did.

He suddenly wanted to destroy something. His terminal was out. Fowler would kill him when he got back and even though Anderson was pretending to care, he doubted the acting captain’s generosity extended to property damage. Which was a shame, cause he kind of wanted to see if he could get Connor to brawl with him. It wasn’t like the fucking robot couldn’t defend himself. Too bad Hank would never agree to it.

No, he wanted to destroy something, but he only had the pen. It was hard to angrily destroy a pen. It was considerably thick for a cheap piece of plastic. Dismemberment would have to do.

Distraction. Not dismemberment. The last fucking thing he needed was to give Anderson a reason to send him back to therapy. One go-around of that was plenty for him, thank you very much. Six months of no gun, desk duty, and that stupid bitch Megan telling him that he shouldn’t blame himself for what happened…

He didn’t blame himself. He blamed Price.

_Don’t think about it, Gavin._

The pen came apart easily which was incredibly dissatisfying. He had all the pieces neatly out in front of him. It wasn’t distracting enough.

He pushed his feet against the floor to roll his chair back and allow himself access to the filing cabinets underneath his desk. He opened the top-right drawer and pulled out a blank, paper report, making a point to ignore the cell phone that was in there. The one he stole back from evidence after everything was over. After it had been made clear to him that absolutely nothing was going to happen to Price and Gavin was just going to have to live with it.

That wasn’t true. He didn’t steal it. Fowler gave it back to him and he kept it. He hadn’t turned it on since. Hadn’t watched any of the videos, looked through any of the pictures, he hadn’t had the heart to relive any of the before…

He kicked the drawer closed with his knee and used the heels of his feet to inch back to his desk’s surface.

He checked his supplies again and snorted. God, he felt like a fucking eight-year-old. He picked up the ink chamber and nib, inspecting it for a moment and then wondered how different writing with the skinny tube would be. He tried, taking the blank report and above the margin that requested the name of the officer filling out the report he wrote:

MURDER IS WRONG. MURDER IS WRONG. MURDER IS WRONG.

A fact. A reminder. He needed to be reminded of that.

The words soon turned to several swirls and squiggles along the borders of the page. It was hard to write with just the ink chamber.

Hank was walking into the bullpen and Gavin’s gaze couldn’t help but follow him back to his desk. He saw Connor and the idea of trying to get the android to fight him came back once more, but he shoved it aside.

Price left the interrogation rooms soon after, walking down the halls looking irritated and actually shut the fucking meeting room door when he got there as if Southeast had top secret shit that couldn’t be overheard.

The ink chamber snapped in half and ink splattered on the paper in front of him. He didn’t realize he had been twisting it in his rage. Whoops.

He reread his words across the ruined page.

MURDER IS WRONG. MURDER IS WRONG. MURDER IS WRONG.

_It was, Gavin. It was. No question._

Was murder  _worth_  it, though? He mulled it over as he started finger painting. Dragging his index finger in the black, he watched it shimmer against the light, covering up the questionnaire that he had filled out so many times, he knew it by heart.

The ink was drying. It wasn’t letting him draw anymore, so he clawed at the white on the paper to try to clean it off his hands and then picked up the pen pieces.

He put it together just as quickly as he took it apart, but it was ruined now. The ink was gone, chamber snapped in two and unable to reach and activate the clicking mechanism—useless. He held up the paper and stabbed the pen through it. And then did it again. And again. The aggression grew the more tears he made. He may have imagined the empty report being a certain someone’s head.

MURDER IS WRONG.

He was going to have to try to keep his cool around Hank. He was  _not_  going back to therapy.

“Detective Reed?”

Gavin looked up at the female officer that had called his name. His brain stuttered, trying to recognize her before finally accepting that he didn’t. She was from Southeast. An odd clarity came back to him, clearing a fog in his head that he hadn’t realized he had allowed to settle in the first place. It was like the world itself had reopened. Everything was suddenly brighter, bigger—more things existed than just his desk, a broken pen, and a ruined police report.

He was at work. He had… forgotten that.

The female officer was watching him with a peculiar, mildly concerned expression and clutching a Manilla folder to her chest. He casually glanced back down at his desk and saw the mess he made, just now realizing how much of a fucking psycho he had to look like at the moment.

He should probably care about that more than he did.

“ _Yeah?!_ ” he asked like she was the weird one in this situation.

“Uh…” She shifted uncomfortably and awkwardly held out the folder. “This ended up on our side. Lieutenant Anderson told me to give it to you. There’s… been a murder.”

“Thank God!” Reed said, standing up and snatching the file from her. A real distraction and a reason to leave. Perfect!

The officer, however, shrank back in uncertainty. She seemed to be having a hard time trying to figure out if she should be offended or frightened.

“Wow, that is… incredibly insensitive,” she finally said, shaking her head in disapproval.

“Go write a blog about it!” Gavin snapped, openly mocking her with a sneer before opening the case file and flipping through the contents. He ignored her scoff and the look of disgust she gave him.

“Ass,” she said, not too quietly. He literally waved her off, a shooing motion that earned him another scoff. He never even glanced up from the folder.

A man was murdered in his apartment. The neighbor saw the victim and the suspect arguing outside. She had called it in when the fight turned physical. The neighbor recognized the suspect as the victim’s ex-girlfriend’s son. Ex-girlfriend’s son was on file: name, address, license plate, place of employment—Gavin had it all.

It was open-and-shut, really. Gavin pretty much just had to go pick the man up. Maybe swing by the crime scene to verify a few things, but that was about it. He was totally prepared to drag this out as long as possible. Anything to keep him from coming back here.

“Hey, Reed!” Chris Miller said, awkwardly drumming his knuckles on Gavin’s desk to get his attention. “Hank said you just got assigned a case and could use a partner. I’m free! Wanna head out?”

Gavin’s eyes flickered over to where Hank and Connor should be, but Hank was absent. Gavin found him heading to the breakroom. It didn’t take a detective to realize Hank assigned him this case on purpose. For once, he was grateful to the old man.

“Yeah, let’s go,” he said. Snatching up the mess of paper he had made along with the broken pen and discarding both in his trash can beside his desk. He kicked his chair off to the side and walked into the hall, making a point not to look into the meeting room.

Chris was beside him in an instant. It felt like Chris had been beside him most of the morning, but Gavin didn’t comment on it. Instead, he shoved his hands deep in the pockets of his jacket, the Manilla folder was wedged under his arm, and he marched towards the front lobby.

“I was gonna make a pit stop first if that’s cool with you?” he asked, looking over at Miller questionably. Chris nodded and offered a warm smile.

“Yeah, man. I’m game for whatever.”

Of course, he was. It was probably why Hank assigned Chris to him today.

They walked through the gates and were immediately acknowledged by the two android secretaries.

“Hi, Gavin! Bye, Gavin!”

And then they giggled like schoolgirls. They did this every time he left. He rarely gave them anything more than a grunt of acknowledgment, but today he outright ignored them. They never seemed bothered by his dismissal. Today was no different.

“Hi, Chris! Bye, Chris!” He heard them say. Chris, of course, gave them a cheery wave goodbye before catching up with him outside. Gavin had forgotten how packed the parking lot was. He could barely see his car from the front steps of the precinct, but from what he could tell, his car was blocked in on both sides by two others.

_Fucking Southeast!_

He was so fed up with that department that he almost just got in his car and floored the reverse until one of the double-parked asshat vehicles moved enough for him to get out, but Chris came to his rescue. The officer held up a set of keys he had just fished out of his pocket.

“I got it, man. No worries,” he said and then walked them both to the side lot where the police cruisers were. He unlocked the car doors with the keyring and Gavin climbed into the passenger seat.

He reopened the file to quickly skim it over again while waiting for Chris to get in the car.

“So, where to first?” Chris asked and Gavin looked up, a bit confused. “You said you needed to stop somewhere.”

“Oh, yeah. Right…” he closed the folder and straightened up in his seat before pulling out the seatbelt and buckling it. “A gas station. Anyone. Just need some fucking smokes.”

“You still trying to quit?” he asked, not accusatory. He turned on the car and lifted the brake before pulling out of the lot.

“I was,” Gavin answered, his gaze drifted out the window. He didn’t really feel like talking. Chris must have caught on because the drive was silent for a bit until he finally chanced a glance at Gavin.

“Hey, man,” Chris started, a look of sympathy and deep concern on his features. “You are doing okay, right?”

Gavin thought back to the pen he had mutilated on his desk. The MURDER IS WRONG he wrote like a mantra across the page of the blank police report. The finger painting. The paper he pretended was a human being’s head as he stabbed it repeatedly. The paper he pretended was  _Andrew Price’s_  head.

“Of course,” he answered, his tone sounding dead to even him. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!
> 
> I really wanted to try to do a 'flashback sequence' in a different way than simply italicising. This was my way of practice for something like that. I hope it wasn't too confusing. Let me know what you thought!
> 
> Also, thank you so much for all your support! You are all truly the best! I haven't had a chance to answer all your comments, but I plan on heading back and doing so soon.
> 
> This chapter was so much fun to write. I hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> As always, I apologize for any and all grammatical errors, spelling mistakes, or overall confusion you may have stumbled upon thus far. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

* * *

“You mind?” Gavin asked, an unlit cigarette sat between his lips, bouncing up and down with his words. The lighter was already an inch away and was about to ignite the paper before the detective even thought of common courtesy. “I really won’t if it bothers you, dude. You can say no.”

They were still parked in front of the gas station but Chris had left the car running while Gavin ran inside. He had just gotten back into the cruiser and didn’t appear to be in a hurry to get to the crime scene but Chris didn’t bring it up.

“You’re good, man. For real,” Chris said as he started rolling down the windows. “Depending on who I get paired with on patrol nights, this car starts looking like a hotbox anyway. At least you have the decency to ask.”

Gavin smirked and lit his cigarette, taking a long, satisfying drag from it, resisted the urge to moan in pleasure. Good, God, he missed smoking! The result was nearly instant. His frayed nerves unraveled from the nicotine intake, the tightness in his chest loosened to almost nothing, and the sickening, angry feeling he felt in the pit of his stomach dispelled on the exhale, leaving with the smoke that he blew out the open window.

“Thanks, Chris,” Gavin said with a sigh. He suddenly felt exhausted. It wasn’t even noon.

“Hey, it’s all good,” Chris said, offering a warm smile. He drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, contemplating something before his smile wavered. “You… uh… you want to talk about it?”

Gavin snorted and actually laughed out loud. He shook his head.

“Nah, man,” he said. He watched the cherry on his cigarette burn, almost mesmerized by it. When he spoke again, his voice was soft. “Thanks, though.”

“Of course,” Chris said. “What are friends for?”

Gavin wasn’t aware they were friends. Not that he didn’t like Chris. Quite the contrary actually. Chris was amazing. Too amazing for Gavin, that was certain.

“If you change your mind, though, I’m here for you,” Chris added. Gavin watched him thoughtfully. Chris was smiling a warm, genuine smile. He wholeheartedly meant what he was saying, what he was offering, and it made something in Gavin’s chest clench.

It might have been guilt. Gavin didn’t deserve the title of friend with this man.

_‘Why do you always push everyone away?’_

“You wanna head over?” Chris asked, pointing with his thumb as if the crime scene was right around the corner. “I just need the address.”

Gavin passed him the Manilla case folder.

“Paper?” Chris asked in amusement as he held the file up. Gavin snorted.

“I know, right?” No one used paper folders anymore. “It came from Southeast. They’re completely down right now.”

Chris nodded in understanding and started to flip through the file.

“Ah, shit. This should be easy,” he said while reaching over to access the GPS on the dashboard. He punched the house number in, copying the address that was written in the file.

“Should be,” Gavin said, sounding bored. He secretly hoped this was going to be the hardest case of his career, but he knew the likelihood of that was incredibly slim. A small, cynical part of him was also hoping that the perp would be violent and fight him. He still hadn’t gotten over the thought of wanting to punch something to a bloody pulp and police brutality would easily scratch that itch for him. Knowing his luck today, the suspect was going to arrest himself and wait for them in the car.

“The scene isn’t too far from here. Want to leave now or you want to chill for a bit more?” Chris asked. His tone wasn’t mocking or critical and Gavin almost wished it was. Chris was too nice for his own good. Chris was too nice for Gavin.

_‘Why do you always push everyone away?’_

“Might as well get this over with,” he mumbled before taking one last, long drag of his cigarette and flicking the filter out the window. He pulled on his seatbelt and buckled it before propping his elbow against the windowpane and using it to support his head. The windows were still open and the light breeze felt nice. It was a beautiful day. Shame it was such a shitty one.

Chris shifted the car in reverse and backed out of the parking spot. When he was back in drive and about to turn out of the gas station, he spoke up again:

“A few of the guys are going out for drinks after work if you wanted to come?” he offered, chancing a glance over at the miserable detective. “Pool, darts, and drinks. I’ll buy you a shot.”

Chris gave him a playful grin.

“Thanks, but I don’t drink.”

Chris laughed and shook his head as if Gavin had just told a funny joke. Gavin looked over, mildly amused but otherwise, his expression remained solemn. That was usually the response he got when he told someone that. The second response was:

“Wait… wait, you’re serious?”

“Yes.”

“What? Really?!” Chris asked, genuinely surprised.

“Yes,” Gavin said with a light chuckle. Truthfully, he hated having this conversation. It was always the same dialogue regardless of who he was talking to. No, he didn’t drink. Yes, there was a reason why he didn’t. No, he wasn’t going to tell you that reason. Fuck off.

He didn’t have the heart to go through that routine with Chris. Probably because the officer was clearly trying so hard to cheer him up and despite being incapable of expressing it, Gavin really did appreciate it.

“Damn. My bad, dude. I would never have guessed,” Chris said, shaking his head in disbelief. The GPS informed them they were almost at their destination as they pulled into a neighborhood of townhouses. “I didn’t know you could be a cop and not drink.”

Gavin snorted in amusement and rolled his eyes.

“Why did you think I’m always harping on Anderson about it?”

“I…” Chris was at a loss for words, but an enormous smile was on his face. “Honestly, it explains quite a bit.”

“How so?”

“Just… everything, I guess. You’re never at the bar after work or anyone’s house for poker and drinks. I just thought you hated everyone or something.”

_‘Why do you always push everyone away?’_

“I don’t hate—” Gavin started to say before truly thinking it through “— _everyone_...”

Chris laughed again. It was contagious and Gavin couldn’t help but join him.

“Fuck you,” Gavin said through his snickers, his tone light and teasing. They pulled up at the house and Chris parked the cruiser alongside the curb. Gavin’s smile faltered at the sight of it.

They were clearly in a welfare-housing neighborhood; too low on the spectrum to call any true media attention to it despite a murder having taken place here. Trash bags were stacked in a collective mount on porches and shoved in crevices as if tenants were too lazy to take them to the dumpster. Some bags had been chewed through by strays or wild animals leaving garbage spilling out and left scattered around the yards, driveways, and street. Old, broken down and beat up cars were drunkenly parked, crooked in their driveways or in the middle of the grass entirely like cheap lawn ornaments. The grass itself was tall from neglect and harbored several toys ranging from bicycles to teddy bears—a disturbing scene given the suspicious lack of actual children in the area.

The image shot a sickening nostalgia in Gavin’s chest, an anxiety that pooled so fast it went straight to his stomach and made him feel physically ill. He opened the car door, but hesitated, his attention lingering on the sight so familiar it hurt.

It wasn’t the first time he had been hit like this at a crime scene, but given current events, it was the first time he had ever felt it this strongly. He tried to mask it with indifference, but Chris had clearly caught on that something was wrong.

“Gavin, wait.”

Gavin had one foot already out of the cruiser and a hand on the roof, but he turned back to look at Miller.

“I know I already asked but… are you sure you’re okay?”

Gavin didn’t deserve Chris as a friend. It was too much. All of it. The number of people cramming the precinct, this stupid, familiar-looking hellhole, Price’s promotion to lieutenant,  _Price —_

It was too much. He couldn’t keep it under control anymore. His anxiety came out, like it always did, in the form of anger.

“ _Yes!_ Just because I don’t want to play Dr. Phil with you doesn’t mean I’m about to write dark poetry and slit my wrists, Miller,” Gavin snapped, stepping out of the cruiser entirely and slamming the door shut to keep himself from saying anything else. He didn’t wait for Chris as he marched through the holo-tape and towards the house but the car door opened and shut soon after he left.

_‘Why do you always push everyone away?’_

He didn’t fucking know. But he hated it.

 

* * *

 

Hazeem and Alan had gotten their precinct online and working within the hour (record time, not that anyone seemed to  _care_ , but IT has always been a thankless job). They had already gotten permission from their host lieutenant to continue with their project and both men had been too afraid to verify whether or not he had been joking. He did sort of… run out on them in the middle of giving the green light. They went ahead with it regardless.

Mainly because they were bored.

Like on any other day in their actual precinct, Alan and Hazeem had little-to-nothing to do. Unless something was broken, they were 'next to useless,' as their boss liked to say... Often.

Another perk of the IT department: when you’re needed, you’re a godsend, but when you’re not (or when you were simply done with the problem you had been sent to fix), your entire worth is suddenly put into question. They were doomed if they sat and twiddled their thumbs and they were doomed if they started non-work-related projects, but at least one of the options kept them entertained. The lesser of two evils, it would seem…

Hence, their garbage disposal project.

It wasn’t the first time a company had ‘accidently’ sent the department several units as opposed to one, but no one really managed to catch on to their ordering habits yet. Accounting had questioned them once and only once. Their excuse was that it wasn’t for  _their_  department, because _their_ department was small and next to useless and what did they even do when there were no computers to fix, really? Well, they ordered things! For everyone else! Because the folks in the IT department were team players.

And that was the end of that.

It really shouldn’t have worked but it did, and Alan and Hazeem got to order all the latest models of appliances. They would take them apart and rebuild whatever they wanted because they were IT and knew way more about the technical side of things than their coworkers. They knew how to make machines work.

And if they were questioned about why the toaster is an animatronic T-Rex that most  _definitely_  does not toast bread, what of it?! They were IT! They knew what they were doing!

Don’t be mistaken, they did their work and they did it well. Case-in-point would be how, as previously mentioned, the two of them had managed to make every single one of their coworkers connected to the DPD database with full access to it and now the two separate departments were (or at least should be) running smoothly together.

But now that they were not needed, there was literally nothing for them to do. Not that their coworkers understood or sympathized with that.

They were questioned about everything: work-related or not. If they tried to give an explanation they would almost immediately be dismissed as annoying. It wasn’t their fault that their colleagues didn’t know jack about technology but insisted on interrogating them for answers they didn’t actually care for. It had made the two of them rather standoffish in regards to mingling with the department. Or… anyone for that matter.

Which is why, when Hazeem saw in his peripherals a man approach them and then stand and stare at them with almost inhumanly stiff posture, Hazeem chose to ignore him. For the most part, when he did this, people would get the hint and leave.

This man didn’t seem to get that hint. To be fair, had Hazeem looked up, he would have known that the man wasn’t exactly a man at all. Had Hazeem looked up, he would have saved himself the embarrassment he was about to put himself through.

“What are you guys doing?” Connor asked. Hank had gotten up to use the restroom, allowing the android to roam the precinct without being questioned. He had wanted to see if he could gain access to Southeast’s server. It was up and running, though it still lacked its rack and was currently shoved in the corner directly opposite of the entrance to the meeting room. Connor could see it through the door, but it was unreachable without being noticed.

The two IT men had left shortly after setting up the officers, rolling an entire trolley with equipment to the breakroom with excited smiles on their faces about half-an-hour ago and Connor hadn’t seen them leave since. He shouldn’t technically be talking to them, seeing as they were with the Southeast department but neither of them held badges or guns, so Connor was going to excuse them from the promise he had made to Hank.

Besides, the mess the two had made in the breakroom had sparked Connor’s curiosity.

The cabinet door directly under the sink had been removed, entirely off its hinges. It was currently leaning up against the far wall of the breakroom. Plastic wrappings, screws, and Styrofoam littered the floor around it. Several papers were crumpled and tossed to the side, the writing on it suggested the contents were instructions or manual booklets, but Connor couldn’t get a good read on what they were actually for _._

In front of the mess was the Pakistani man who was crouching down and peering into the cabinet’s empty frame, watching his friend who had his entire torso inside the cabinet and was laying on his back, installing something. Various equipment and tools lay scattered around the two technicians, some were even still wrapped in plastic, waiting to be opened.

The men were pointedly ignoring Connor. He could tell by the way they tensed when addressed. The man outside the cabinet actually shifted a bit so more of his back was facing the android. He even shoved his head in the cupboard, leaning awkwardly over his friend as if to make Connor think he couldn’t hear the question.

“Excuse me,” Connor called out politely. “May I ask what you two are doing to the breakroom cabinets?”

The man outside the cabinet waved his hand dismissively. When he spoke, the android’s translation system kicked in immediately:

> Audio Language Identified: Urdu

> Translation: Urdu - English

> Translation Successful! // _Sorry, we don’t speak English here!_

Connor frowned. He wanted to play that way? Fine. It took less than a second to reconfigure his voice. In fluent Urdu and with no hint of an accent, Connor smiled and said:

_“My apologies. I asked what you two were doing to the breakroom cabinets.”_

The man pulled himself out of the cabinet so fast, he hit the back of his head on the lip of the frame. His facial expression went from pained to panic to surprise comically fast. With his face fully exposed, Connor scanned him for an identification.

 **Abbasi, Hazeem**  
Born: 10/20/2005 // IT Specialist  
Criminal Record: None

Hazeem shot to his feet the second he caught sight of Connor’s LED. He opened and closed his mouth several times, but whatever words he was trying to say got caught in his throat and a strange, high-pitched whine came out instead.

“Are you alright?” Connor asked, concerned. He had never seen this reaction on a human before and it was worrying him a bit. Hazeem’s heart rate was increasing, his eyes were wide, he was trembling… all of this pointed to the man being terrified. But there was a smile twitching at Hazeem’s lips that kept throwing off that theory and after a painfully awkward moment, the technician nodded.

“You… you… you’re a…” He pointed at Connor with a trembling hand.

“Z?”

Their attention snapped to the man in the cupboard. He had pulled himself out enough to notice Connor’s presence but his view cut off at the android’s chest. A loud huff of clear annoyance came from inside the cupboard.

“I swear to God!” the man under the sink said. “For the millionth _fucking_ time! We are installing a garbage disposal. Your department doesn’t _have_ one. Ours had two. We brought the extra one here—”

 “Alan!” Hazeem had just managed to snap out of his fangirling episode long enough to choke out the word. His attention kept shifting between Connor and Alan. He tried to hold up his hands in apologetic dismissal to excuse his friend, not wanting to scare the android off, but Alan spoke up again:

“We have permission to do it from _your_ lieutenant! We asked him _specifically_ if we could do this and he said yes! All we had to fucking do was make it so our departments didn’t have to share computer space. Which we succeeded.”

Connor tilted his head as he thought that over.

“You set up a new network that fast?” he asked. If that were true, he was impressed.

Alan snorted.

“No, _genius_!—” Hazeem cringed “—We merged it with yours. Upgraded your infrastructure and linked everything up to your SAN. It was the fastest way to get everyone up and running and leaving us alone.”

“But then you’re not accessing your own databases. All those records would simply be updating and accounting towards ours.” Connor pointed out. Meaning any data input that Southeast added would credit to Central. It would make Central look as if it had solved more cases than they truly had. Those numbers mattered.

Alan huffed again, an exaggerated, verbal groan.

“Alan, you should _really_ stop…” Hazeem tried once more, to no avail.

“ _No_... We brought our hardware over. We upgraded your network, but all of our data goes to _our_ storage units offsite. It doesn’t take up any of your space, and we don’t have to fuck around with—look, it’s been taken care of, okay?! I don’t need to justify my job to you! It’s done!”

Hazeem had started kicking at Alan’s leg to get him to stop talking, to get him to notice _who_ he was talking to, to get him to something! The first deviant android they had the honor of actually having a conversation with and they were blowing the chance sky-high. As if to solidify that point, Alan added:

“You can stop acting like an IT professional now or some kind of fucking robot and fuck off.”

His colleague winced, a nervous, high-pitched wail escaped his throat. His eyes slowly rose to look at Connor’s face, trying to gauge the android’s reaction as well as apologize for his friend’s behavior.

Truthfully, Connor was a bit amused.

“Well…” he started, feigning thought. “I _am_ technically both of those things.”

Alan’s body stilled.

Connor crossed his arms behind his back and waited patiently for the man to emerge from the cupboard. Hazeem looked as if he was about to dive under there himself.

Alan obviously came to the realization quite a bit ago, but none of them moved for a long while. When he finally crawled out of the space, he slowly rose to his feet with reddening cheeks, swallowed to clear his throat, and then nodded as if accepting his own idiocy.

He looked over at Connor as if confirming he was speaking to an android and he let out a long breath that ended in a nervous whine. His entire face was tomato-red and his lips were thinned to a tight line on his face.

“I…” he started, but his voice gave out and he had to try again. “I am so _fucking_ sorry! I swear. I didn’t mean—we normally get so much shit for… Oh, fuck!”

 **Green, Alan**  
Born: 6/05/2004 // IT Specialist  
Criminal Record: None

Alan frantically looked to Hazeem for help but the other man continued to shake his head, mouth covered by both hands and eyes wide as saucers.

Connor’s lip twitched, but he fought the smile. He tilted his head to the side, feigning innocence and blinking.

“Hello, Alan!” Connor greeted then turned to Hazeem with a nod of his head. “Hazeem. My name is Connor. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Hazeem’s expression didn't change from his deer-caught-in-headlight look. Alan’s lips fought for words but he kept stumbling over them. They stayed like this for a heartbeat or two before Hazeem suddenly blurted out:

“I like robots!”

Alan jerked his arm out to slap Hazeem across the chest in mortification. The statement seemed to reset the former, though, as his words came much easier on his third try.

“Hi, Connor… Hi. We’re sorry. Truly. It’s just that… so many people ask us so many questions and—we really didn’t mean to offend you...” He sheepishly rubbed his hands together, glancing everywhere but at Connor. Hazeem was simply fidgeting, shifting his weight from foot-to-foot but nodding in agreement to Alan’s statement.

“You didn’t offend me,” Connor said with a smile. That was the truth too. They didn’t offend him at all. But just because he couldn’t help himself, he added in a teasing tone, “Am I permitted to continue asking you networking questions?”

Both men reddened again but nodded.

“Storage devices are different for each department, but wouldn’t we have access to yours if need be? You mentioned you connected our networks.”

“You… wouldn’t need it, trust me,” Alan said. Hazeem still seemed to be looking for his words and dignity. “Your infrastructure is a lot bigger than ours. It's part of the reason why expanding it made more sense than building a new one from the ground up. But… yeah, the servers are being hosted by your network. You’d be able to have access to them… if you needed to.”

Connor fought the urge to smile. This was _perfect!_ Hazeem and Alan had connected the two servers and made their own a guest. If Central was hosting, he should have no problem getting admin rights to continue with his Lt. Price investigation.

He turned around to look out into the bullpen, specifically the glass cube at the end of it. Fowler’s office would give him everything he needed. He just needed to find a way to get in there without being noticed.

Easier said than done. The office was practically in the middle of the room and two-thirds of it was glass. It was also elevated. Getting up to the door was equivalent to simply announcing what you were doing. He was going to have to think this through.

His view of the office was briefly cut off by Detective Reed and Officer Miller as they walked by the breakroom, seemingly heading for the holding cells as they had a man in custody. Gavin’s gait was ahead of Chris’ and the perp’s by a step or two. The suspect himself was in tears; head downcast, lip quivering, soft whimpers emitting from his throat and not even trying to match the march the two officers were forcing him into, leaving Chris to practically drag the man down the hall in an attempt to keep up with the detective.

Connor watched them until they walked out of sight.

“What model are you?” Hazeem blurted out behind him, earning himself another smack from his friend followed by a hissed:

“What the _fuck_ , Z?!”

“May I ask you two an off topic question?” Connor asked, turning back to Hazeem and Alan.

“Jesus Christ, please do,” Alan said.

“I couldn’t help but notice the lack of android employees within your department,” Connor said. It wasn’t a question, but the reaction he got from the two was enough to suggest they knew what he wanted to know. They looked both annoyed and disappointed as they exchanged glances, not quite sure how to approach the subject.

“Yeah, we don’t think that’s a coincidence,” Alan started. “We don’t have an exact reason, but it might have something to do with—”

“—Lieutenant Price!” Hazeem suddenly shouted. In greeting. His eyes darted to Connor and Alan in obvious warning. “Is there anything we can help you with?”

Connor turned to see none other than Andrew Price staring at them just outside the breakroom. He looked as if he had whipped around the corner to come in, but stopped just short of the sight before him. His eyes flashed in anger, but it was brief and quickly became overshadowed by that unnerving calm Connor had known to associate the lieutenant with.

“Yes,” he started. He sounded suspicious. “I left a file in the meeting room. A Manilla folder. It’s gone missing.”

“We haven’t seen it, sir,” Alan said, shifting uncomfortably.

“That makes sense,” Price said. “Considering you’re not in the meeting room. Where everyone else is. Working.”

Hazeem frowned but didn’t say anything. Alan appeared to be the braver of the two.

“We have finished all of our work.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes.”

 _“All_ of it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“So if I were to go check to verify that, I would find nothing that needs to be done?”

Hazeem snorted before covering it up with a cough. He was trying to hide his mouth which seemed to be fighting a smirk. Alan must have known what he was thinking because he lightly elbowed him.

“No, sir. Everything is done and we told the officers where to find us if any problems arose.”

“All of the officers? What if some of them don’t know where to find you seeing as you are unavailable?”

“They… we told them where to find us. We are available.”

“You don’t look available,” Price said, that fake smile on his face as if he was trying to be friendly.

Alan sighed, a deep, annoyed huff.

“Would you… like us to go back to the meeting room?” Alan asked, exasperated. Connor suddenly understood how Price liked to play. Try and make your employees come to the conclusion you want, make them feel dumb the longer they drag it out, wound their pride...

Price’s smile widened as if he was pleased.

“Do _you_ think it would be better if you were in there? Available?”

Alan stared at Price, his upper lip twitched in irritation. He seemed to be deciding how much willpower he had to put up with the lieutenant’s mind games.

“I don’t think it matters, to be perfectly honest. But we’ll go in there.”

“Oh? Why doesn’t it matter?”

“That doesn’t matter either.”

“I would like to know.”

“We’re going in the room, okay?! You got what you wanted, you can just stop now!”

“There’s no reason to get so upset, Mr. Green. I am simply trying to figure out the best course of action with you.”

Alan rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything as he began cleaning up the mess they made. Hazeem joined him, making a point to keep quiet. Price was about to speak up again but he suddenly froze and looked over at Connor as if just now realizing the android was there. An odd clarity seemed to come over his expression and he tilted his head curiously.

“Did you take my case file?” he asked in a way a parent would ask a child if they had stolen cookies out of the jar.

“No, Lieutenant,” Connor answered.

“It was on a table in the meeting room,” Andrew said, slowly. Connor nodded.

“Yes, you did just mention that.”

“Did you go in there and take it?”

Connor tilted his head.

“No,” he said. "I just said that.”

“Don’t lie to me, now,” Price said still sounding like he was reprimanding a child. “It was on the table in the meeting room. Just give it back to me and there’s no reason for me to have to report you.”

“I did not take your file, Lieutenant,” Connor said, his tone nothing but neutral and his LED stayed a steady blue. Price noticed all of this and it only seemed to irritate him further. He grit his teeth for a moment but forced his smile again.

“I would like… very much… to have a nice and professional working relationship with you—” Connor quirked an eyebrow at that but didn’t say anything “—But I don’t like liars. And I can tell when someone is lying to me.”

“Evidently you cannot.” Connor pointed out, an amused smile on his face. “Because I’m not lying.”

Price’s nostrils flared but he kept his face stoic. He held his stare with the android for an uncomfortable moment, almost as if he was expecting Connor to crack under the pressure of his gaze.

“He was with us the entire time, sir,” Hazeem suddenly cut in. Alan looked up at him with an annoyed glare that softened as the words sunk in. He clearly wanted to just leave the room and get away from Price, but he didn't want to leave the android alone to defend himself with the man either.

Connor’s eyebrows dipped in confusion. What Hazeem just said wasn’t true. The technicians had been in the breakroom for full a half hour before Connor had made his way in here.

He decided to keep quiet about that.

Price didn’t seem to care regardless. After a moment of simply stating at the pair, he marched up to them and leaned in to whisper something. Connor could still hear him perfectly clear.

He decided to keep quiet about that too.

“I specifically told you to keep the robots away from our stuff,” Price hissed, addressing them both. The two shifted uneasily before Hazeem felt brave enough to speak.

“He’s an android, sir. Not a robot… there’s a difference. See, one is—”

“Don’t change the subject!” Price interrupted. “I want to know why you two felt the need to disobey direct orders from me.”

It was then that Detective Gavin Reed came into the breakroom. He froze for less than a second at the sight of the company before treading on with an irritated growl towards the coffee pot on the counter. He pulled something out from underneath his arm—a Manilla folder, fat with papers of an obvious case report—and set it on the counter. Connor and Price made the connection at the same time.

“Oh, _that_ file!” Connor said, cheerfully. It caught Gavin’s attention and he turned to look at the android, confused, while Price snatched the folder off the counter.

“Hey!” Reed snapped, stealing it back from the lieutenant just as quickly. “That’s mine.”

“No, it’s mine,” Price insisted. His calm demeanor was faltering. He held out his hand expectantly. “I had left it on the table in the meeting room and it was—” his eyes darted to Connor “—taken.”

“Tough shit then. One of _your_ fucking officers gave it to me and Hank told me to work on it.”

“That was a mistake,” he said as he tried to force his fake smile back. “It won’t happen again. I would appreciate it if you would—”

Gavin burst out laughing, a hollow, mocking laugh.

“Like I give a flying fuck what you _appreciate_ ,” he said. “Dumbass motherfucker.” He tucked the folder back under his arm and turned back to the pot. Price leaned against the counter, drumming his fingers on the surface as if waiting for Reed to apologize. The detective ignored him.

“You know, Gavin. I was hoping that you could be mature enough to at least act like a professional, but—”

“You should have known better,” Reed interrupted, completely disinterested.

Connor felt a tap on his shoulder and he turned to see Hazeem and Alan sheepishly wave goodbye to him as they headed back towards the meeting room. Connor smiled and watched them leave before turning back to the two at the counter.

“Detective Reed,” Price started again. Gavin paid him no mind, but his movements were tense and growing tighter by every passing second. “I need that case file back now.  _Please_.”

“No,” Gavin said, faking his own smile. “It’s mine. Just like this—” he held up the coffee pot and then set it back down “—is mine. This room is mine. This precinct is mine.” He never broke eye contact with Price, but he marched over to Connor and snatched the surprised android by the arm. “This is mine too. Don’t touch or go near my stuff, pencil-dick, and then you won’t have _any_ problems with my _professionalism_.”

Gavin seemingly abandoned his coffee in favor of dragging Connor out of the breakroom and into the hall. Connor just managed to catch sight of Hank talking to Chris near the holding cells before Price decided to yell out:

“Are you ever going to just grow the fuck up, Gavin?! It was years ago. Get over it!”

The detective halted. The grip he had on Connor’s arm tightened in anger. He turned back to face the guest lieutenant.

“Are you _fucking_ kidding me?!” Gavin snapped. Connor felt an overwhelming urge to grab onto Gavin, fearing whatever the outcome of this was going to be. Gavin tried to shake the android off but gave up after a moment to devote his full attention to Price. “After all that shit you pulled—”

“Well to be perfectly honest,” Price interrupted, crossing his arms in annoyance. “I was fully prepared to let bygones be bygones if you could just man up and apologize for your actions.”

Gavin grew eerily quiet. He was trembling under Connor’s grip, his upper lip was twitching uncontrollably in pure, unadulterated rage, and a murderous hatred had ignited in his eyes.

“Gavin…” Connor tried to warn, tried to ground him, tried to bring him back to lucidity. Gavin’s stress levels were skyrocketing. He remained quiet, unblinking, stuck in his head as if he was trying to keep himself under control. Connor could sense the danger. Price, apparently, could not.

“False accusations are nothing to joke about, you know,” the lieutenant continued. “But I’m willing to forgive you if you simply apologize. I would _prefer_ to have one from everyone involved, but you of all people know that I’m not going to get one from—”

If Connor wasn’t already holding onto Gavin, Price would surely be through the opposite wall. The detective lunged at the guest lieutenant like a starved and wild animal. Growling in inaudible huffs as he twisted in Connor’s grip, but the android refused to let go.

Price actually jumped back for a moment before noticing his would-be attacker was clearly restrained.

“Gavin! My goodness! I had forgotten how batshit-crazy you were!” Price said with a mocking laugh. He took a step closer, a cruel sneer slithered across his face as he patronizingly added, “It must run in the family.”

Gavin’s face paled. He looked like he was about to be physically ill. His trembling had gotten worse, his breath became shallow, hitching in his throat as if he was choking but he stubbornly tried to hide and push through whatever terror seemed to have come over him; masking it once more with unadulterated rage.

“You—you—” Gavin couldn’t even form the words. His fingers kept flexing into his palms as if preparing to be wrapped around Andrew’s throat.

“Stop!” Connor snapped at Price as he struggled to hold Gavin’s wavering weight. Gavin was acting like he was trying to push through a panic attack through mere fury and willpower alone. “Just stop talking! What the hell is wrong with you?!”

Out of the corner of his eye, Connor caught sight of Hank making his way down the hallway and towards them. He must have just noticed the situation.

Price completely ignored Connor, actually taking another step to bring himself closer to Reed.

“Given the circumstances, though, it isn’t all that—” he made a point to look Reed right in the eye, his tone suggesting he was telling some sort of inside joke “— _mind_ -blowing.”

Connor had never seen any human move as fast as Gavin just did. In record time, the detective had freed himself from Connor by whirling around and hitting the android right in the face with the pad of his palm. Freed from Connor, he then lunged for Price. The two crashed down on the tile of the breakroom; Gavin reeled his fist back in preparation for a blow—

—that immediately got intercepted by Hank.

Hank was better at detaining than Connor would have given him credit for. Reed was pulled off of Price and in a policeman hold within seconds of Hank's arrival. The lieutenant leaned forward to hiss several warnings in Gavin's ear. When Hank was certain the panting detective wasn’t going to lunge at Price again, he released Gavin's twisted arm and moved to grip the back of his neck instead.

With Reed firmly under control, Hank turned to face Price. His expression was a fiery fury that Connor had never once seen on the older man.

“You.” He pointed at Price, demanding authority and attention and easily getting both. _“Out!”_

Price narrowed his eyes in confusion as he picked himself up off the floor.

“Excuse me?”

“I said, out. Get. Out. Out of my precinct. Out of my hair. Out of my fucking face! I _told_ you to stay away from Reed, you motherfucking douchebag. It wasn’t a goddamn request. Now, you need to get the fuck out.”

Hank didn’t wait for a reply; instead, he turned to guide Gavin back into the hall: one hand still on the back of Reed’s neck, the other on his upper arm. The guest lieutenant’s pride, of course, wouldn’t allow him to keep his mouth shut.

“You might want to take his gun, Hank!” he called after them. “He’s not very good at keeping tabs on it if I remember correctly.”

The pure, animalistic scream that came from Reed was startling. A strange cross between a shriek and roar that sounded so feral, it actually caused both Connor and Price to jump. Gavin thrashed in Hank’s grip, trying to get free and back to Price who actually laughed at the reaction he had gotten.

Hank acted fast, choosing to push Gavin to the floor as opposed to regaining control of him. It freed up his hands and, after whipping around to face the lieutenant, punched Andrew Price clear across the face. The action surprised everyone, especially Andrew, who flew to the side, into a table and knocked it over before crashing onto the floor himself.

“GET. THE **_FUCK._** OUT!” Hank roared. He pointed to the exit and then went back to a stunned Reed, pulling him up from the floor and placing him in the same hold as before. Clearly, the detective was Hank’s first and only priority.

“You… you punched him. You punched him…” Gavin mumbled over and over in a dazed chant. Hank didn’t respond, guiding the detective through the bullpen and up into Fowler’s empty office, only letting Gavin go when they both were in the safety of the glass cube.

Gavin was shaking his head as if trying to clear it while the lieutenant went to the computer on the Captain’s desk. He fumbled with the controls on the console and the glass that made up the walls of the room darkened so significantly that Hank and Gavin had become nothing more than silhouettes. Hank must have soundproofed the office as well because Gavin started shouting in a pained tone and a cracked voice:

“I didn’t fucking start—”

Before his words were suddenly cut off, leaving behind an eerie silence that should have no place in a busy police department.

Connor blinked and noticed the fair amount of onlookers, all of whom were just as surprised as he was over what had just transpired. He looked over at a dumbstruck Price who was nursing his jaw, working it up and down. He cast an annoyed glance towards Fowler's now-darkened office before his gaze dropped and locked on the floor near Connor's feet. The android looked down to see what had caught Price's attention.

The Manilla folder.

Price straightened himself out, adjusting his shirt and tie to make himself more presentable. He started to walk towards it, but Connor was quicker, swiping it up off the floor and tucking it safely under his arm. Price stared at him in shock which quickly turned to a hateful glare. Connor offered him a polite smile in return.

The folder was clearly Gavin’s after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I wrote this chapter one paragraph every three hours. Every time I would go to write it, something would come up and bother me, so the fact that I'm finally posting makes me more than happy! Good, God!
> 
> In other news, thank you all SO very much for all your love and support with this story so far. You seriously make my day with your kind words and comments! It puts a smile on my face, for sure! Definitely nice knowing that people actually read the stuff you write out! So thank you! You're all the very best!
> 
> As always, I apologize for any and all grammatical errors, spelling mistakes, or overall confusion you may have stumbled upon thus far. I'm constantly editing mistakes I find within my own works, but if you see something I missed, I apologize!
> 
> Thank you so very much for reading! You're all seriously the best!


	5. Chapter 5

Jeffrey Fowler was more than aware of his ‘grumpy’ personality. When he had been promoted to Captain, he had wanted to appear less intimidating to his subordinates; give them a feeling that he was approachable, friendly, kind. His way of doing so was transparency.

So, he turned the tint off on his windows… and then went about his business. If his employees could see him working, they, in turn, would be motivated to work as well. Lead by example.

The added bonus was that Fowler could watch his employees from his desk. Lead by fear. It was a foolproof plan that Hank probably would have bought if he didn’t know Fowler as well as he did.

The captain had no idea how to work the windows. He had turned the tint off by accident; hit a button on his console while deep in the system settings and couldn’t get the damn thing back on. He had messed with it for nearly three hours before giving up and coming up with the lame, team-building excuse.

Hank had figured out the controls by accident. 

It was during the time in Hank’s life when going home meant an empty house, a bottle of whiskey, and the buzz of late night infomercials on his television. It had been one of those rare nights that he didn't want to face that, so he stayed and worked instead. Fowler had already gone home for the night. He had locked his office but Hank had the spare. Fowler had specifically given him a key in the event that someone needed to get into the room when the captain was not available.

It had been one of those times. Hank had needed an authorization key from Fowler in order to access several locked accounts. The key was in Fowler’s office, so Hank went in to look for it.

He had found it too. Eventually. After finding the window controls and playing with them for nearly fifteen minutes first. Shortly after he was about to leave the office, he had noticed the soundproofing option and that had to be messed with as well.

That had been years ago and the memory had been vague at best. It took a minute for him to find the controls again. With him being in such a hurry and as adrenaline-fueled as he currently was, it was a miracle he had managed to soundproof the room before the yelling started.

“I didn’t fucking start it, Hank!” Gavin shouted. His pitch wavered in octaves, higher towards the middle and breaking off towards the end. He grabbed onto the back of one of the guest chairs, squeezing and shaking it in frustration as he struggled to regain control of his voice. “That fucker came up to _me_ and started talking shit. You can ask your plastic pet! He was there! He fucking saw it too! I didn’t do a _damn_ thing!”

“Gavin,” Hank tried, but Reed ignored him.

“I was trying to _leave!_ I was halfway out of there before he started baiting me like the fucking! Bitch-faced! _Weasel!_  That he is!”

He punched the back of the chair with each enunciation before suddenly shoving it. It rocked on its front legs, balancing for a mere moment and then dropped back to all four feet with a soft thud.

Gavin had started pacing. One hand was weaving into his hair, tightly tugging at the dark, brunet locks. Hank took the time to walk around the desk, putting his hands up in a sign of surrender and peace. He was planning on letting the kid vent, but Gavin was under the wrong impression of why he had brought him in here.

“Gavin, I know all of that. I’m not going to—”

“I even thought to get Connor out of there!” Gavin cut him off, too lost in his head to understand anything Hank was trying to say to him. “That’s twice now I’ve caught that dickweed talking to your fucking android. You hearin’ me, Hank?! _Twice!_ You might wanna get on that shit, Anderson. Who the fuck knows what that creepy perv is planning. Unless you want your android to get completely fucked over, huh? Is that what you want?!”

“No, Gavin,” Hank answered calmly, though the bit about Connor was concerning him. Hank tried very hard not to give Connor orders, but whenever he did, the kid listened to them. He knew Connor wouldn’t actively seek out Price and that left an uncomfortable knot in his stomach.

“Fucking perverted motherfucker!”

“Thank you for protecting him,” Hank said, feeling the need to say so because he really was thankful that Gavin had stepped in. “I appreciate that more than you could ever know.”

“And I didn’t touch Connor either!” Reed continued, having missed the gratitude entirely. He was shaking now. The hand in his hair was pulling tighter and it had to painful. Hank wanted to stop him from doing it, but it seemed like it was the only thing keeping Gavin from a full meltdown.

“I believe you, kid. It’s okay,” Hank started, trying to interject to no avail.

“I didn’t say anything to hurt your little robot’s feelings, Hank! I literally didn’t do shit! I’m not the one who came waltzing in here, acting like I own the fucking place just because I’m in an ‘acting’ position that I only got because I can’t just be transferred to a precinct with no openings. Firing me is out of the question because fuck it, right?! Fuck it all straight to—”

“GAVIN!” Hank shouted, startling the detective and finally gaining his attention. Gavin blinked several times as if just now realizing there was someone else present to hear his angry ranting.

“What?” he finally asked, deadpan and unblinking.

Hank took a deep breath, his body slumping in exhaustion on the exhale.

“You’re not in trouble, kid,” Hank said, cautiously. “You’re right. You didn’t do anything. I mean, fuck! I’m the one that punched the prick. If anyone should be getting written up, it’s me!”

Gavin still looked lost, but Hank didn’t call him out on it; instead, he waited patiently for Gavin’s mind to catch up to reality, giving the detective time to respond to the first thing that Hank had managed to get through to him.

“Why are we here then?” he asked, throwing his arms in the air in disbelief (finally letting go of his hair) and looking a bit peeved. Hank couldn’t help but roll his eyes at the sudden change in mood.

Truthfully, they were here for three reasons. The first was for privacy. Any other place in the precinct was accessible to the other officers. No other room in the building was soundproof either and Hank had known there was going to be yelling.

The second was for a sense of control. He knew that Gavin was pissed, as he had every right to be, but the detective had been known to break things in his anger. Everything in Fowler’s office was expensive and fragile. Even the walls were made of glass. The idea of location was to force Gavin to stay somewhat focused despite clearly balancing on the line of sanity and blind rage.

Hank went with reason number three.

“Getting you out of there was my only priority,” he said, sounding more like a parent than a boss. “He wanted a reaction out of you. He wanted you to retaliate so he could spin it around and use it against you. You know that’s how he works, Gavin. He was already getting in your head. You needed to get out of there.”

Gavin dropped his gaze, unable to argue with that. He folded his arms and leaned forward to rest along the back of the chair he had been punching just a few minutes prior. Hank watched him thoughtfully.

“Do you need to leave?” Hank asked, turning his head to the side to try and better catch the detective’s attention. “Do you need to get out of here? I understand if this is too much for you, kid. If you need to leave, you can.”

Gavin snorted and rolled his eyes. He readjusted his footing and looked off to the side.

“Thanks for your permission, Dad,” he mumbled in irritation.

“I’m being serious, Reed.”

“So am I!” Gavin snapped, throwing his arms out to the side. He turned around and started pacing again; his right hand went back to pulling at his hair. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m not going to let that fucker beat me. I’m not going to let him think he won!”

“Okay,” Hank said. “You can stay. That’s fine with me.”

Hank shifted his weight and dropped his gaze; searching for the best way to word where this conversation now _had_ to go.

“You… know what I have to ask you, though, right?” Hank started, slow and hesitant.

Gavin turned to look at him, his expression both annoyed and confused. Hank swallowed down the lump that was forming in his throat.

“I’m going to give you a lot of leeway here, kid. Believe me when I say that. There are a lot—a _lot—_ of things I’m supposed to do that I am going to let slide for now…”

Gavin grit his teeth. His upper lip was twitching, fighting a snarl, but he pinched his lips in an effort to stop it. Hank didn’t want to rile Gavin up again so he waited until the detective regained his composure before continuing.

“I’m the only one here that knows everything that happened, Gavin. There’s nothing you can tell me that I don’t already know. About Price. About you. About—” Hank cut himself off, not sure of what Gavin’s reaction would be if he actually said the name aloud.

Gavin caught on regardless. He shook his head, his expression was once more full of anger and a new onslaught of tremors was currently shaking his frame.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Gavin said. His voice was just above a whisper, but it was menacing and spiteful. His eyes were now shiny with the threat of tears. “Don’t you fucking _dare!_ You don’t know shit! You don’t know _fucking_ shit, Anderson! That is _none_ of your goddamn business!”

“An officer with a _firearm_ ,” Hank started, speaking slow and cautious. He was wading in dangerous waters now and he knew it. “Is, in fact, my business. _You_ are my business, Gavin Reed, whether you like it or _not_.”

Gavin didn’t say anything. His eyes were wide and unfocused, locked on the desk Hank was leaning against. His breath was coming out in short bursts. His chest was hiccupping against his will as he fought to keep up the act that he was fine. That everything was normal. That he wasn’t going into a hyperventilating episode.

Hank tensed, hating every second of this, but he _had_ to ask. It was his job as a police officer, as Gavin’s lieutenant, as a concerned, basic fucking human being—he had to ask.

He couldn’t look the detective in the face.

“...Do I need to hold onto your gun, Gavin?”

Gavin stopped breathing. The shine in his eyes thickened with heavy tears that had to be blurring his vision. He was clearly refusing to let them fall but a few did so on their own accord, unable to stay on his lashes any longer. He still wasn’t breathing.

“ _Fuck. You_.” It came out a hoarse whisper that was dripping with so much hatred and venom and _betrayal._ Hank’s heart ached in his chest. “ _Fuck you, Hank!_ You _fucking_ bastard! You fucking bitch-ass _bastard_!”

He sobbed out the last word, saliva spat from his lips on several of the others. He fought against the sobs that kept interrupting his speech.

Hank was right. Out of everyone in the precinct, Anderson was the only one that knew absolutely everything. It was infuriating. Even more so, that that was entirely Gavin’s fault. He had trusted Hank to help him. Trusted Hank to follow through with his promises. Trusted Hank to keep his secrets a secret because they both had a mutual understanding that they were the type of people that didn’t talk about sentimental shit.

And now he was throwing it all back in Gavin’s face?!

 _“WHY?!”_ Gavin barked out, throwing his arms out to his sides in disbelief. “Why would you fucking ask me that? You think I’m going to blow my fucking brains out, Anderson? Is that what you _fucking_ think?!”

“No, Gavin,” Hank tried to interject. “You need to listen! I—”

“You know everything, right?! You know that that’s all the Reeds are good for, isn’t it?!” His chest was still hitching in shallow spurts, fighting for breath he wasn’t getting. He was going to collapse if Hank didn't intervene soon. “Addiction and _suicide!_ I mean, FUCK! Let’s throw mental illness in there too! Everyone else in my family is a goddamn professional when it comes to that shit! Why the fuck would _I_ be any different, right?!”

“GAVIN!” Hank shouted, taking several steps towards the detective. Gavin withdrew immediately. He backed up on weakened legs, the lack of oxygen caught up quickly. He tripped over his feet but just barely managed to stay upright.

“Don’t you _fucking_ touch me! Don’t you fucking touch me, you goddamn prick! You mother _fucker!”_

He finally dropped to his knees and then all fours, gasping for air he had starved from his lungs. A hand flew to his chest and clutched tightly at his shirt. A sob, and then another, and then he plunged his head to the floor. He shrieked through gritted teeth in frustration and his free hand grabbed at his hair once more; yanking at the locks with such force, it made the older man cringe in phantom pain.

Hank had moved to Gavin the moment he fell. He hesitantly placed a hand on the detective’s back before moving it to Gavin’s shoulder and squeezing it tight. It was meant more as a distraction than an offer of comfort. Hank was smart enough to know Gavin wouldn’t have accepted anything he had to offer in that regard. At least, not yet. Right now, he needed to bring the younger back from whatever pit he had just spiraled into.

“I hate you so fucking much, Anderson,” Gavin said after finally getting a few breaths in his lungs. It was barely audible, spoken into the carpet and forced through several sobs, but Hank had heard him. “I hate you so fucking much!”

Hank’s free hand reached up to grab the one Gavin had woven into his hair. He pressed it down into the younger man's scalp to try to alleviate the pressure and then rubbed his thumb over Gavin’s knuckles; encouragement for him to let go.

Gavin understood the gesture, but shook his head and continued to cry into the floor. Hank didn’t let up.

He used the grip he had on Gavin’s shoulder to tug the detective closer to him, pulling Gavin up off the floor and into his chest where the younger continued to openly sob into Hank’s shirt. The hand that had dragged Gavin closer was now free to wrap around Gavin’s back in a loose embrace. Gavin made no move to return the haphazard hug, but Hank hadn't really been expecting him to. He still had his other hand over Reed’s to keep the latter from scalping himself.

“I need you to breathe, Gavin,” Hank said. “Hate me all you want, but hate me while breathing, please.”

“I can’t!”

“Yes, you can.”

“I can’t! I can’t!”

“Come on, kid. Come on. With me now…” Hank readjusted himself, spreading his legs out to have more room to hoist Gavin closer to him. “Come on. You can do this, Reed. I need you to breathe. With me, now. Inhale…”

Hank breathed in. Gavin did not.

“Don’t make me punch it outta you. Inhale…”

Gavin’s inhale stuttered, but he managed to do it this time.

“Good! That’s good! Now out. Exhale with me.”  

The exhale was broken up by several sobs. A second wind seemed to have come over the detective and it brought back his fight. Gavin started trying to kick out of the hold, twisting in frustration, fueled by fear and anger alone. Hank’s grip tightened to hold him in place and Reed's shoves were rendered next to useless. Under normal circumstances, Gavin would have easily been able to overpower Hank. 

“I’ll let go when you’re breathing,” Hank said to the struggling detective. “I’ll let go when you’re breathing. This stays between us, kid. Just focus on this.”

It took a while for Gavin to stop hyperventilating. Hank was ever patient, though. He didn't let up or let go until he was positive the detective could breathe in and out without his support. When he finally loosened his grip, Gavin pulled away immediately. He wouldn’t look at Hank, but his face was red; a combination of his overexertion, lack of oxygen, and embarrassment.

Hank watched him carefully before standing to his feet. He offered his hand to Gavin and, after staring at it for a moment, the detective reluctantly took it.

“Here, sit here,” Hank grabbed the chair Gavin had been using as a punching bag earlier and spun it around to face them. Gavin obeyed, slumping down in the chair and leaning his elbows on his knees. His hands dangled loosely between his legs, he hung his head and dropped his gaze to the floor.

Hank crouched down in front of him. He had to look up to see Gavin's face.

“I’m going to ask you some questions, Gavin. I _have_ to. Simple, yes or no questions. You don’t even have to speak. Just nod or shake your head, got it?”

Gavin nodded. He understood. Hank inhaled deeply and tried not to tense.

“Do you need to get out of here?”

Gavin’s face twisted as if in pain and another sob burst from his throat. He shook his head.

“Hey! It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s still on the table if you change your mind, alright?”

A nod.

“You can stay here,” Hank started. “But you’re with me and Connor for the rest of the day. Not negotiable. Do you understand?”

Gavin nodded.

“I have to ask this question, Gavin. I _have_ to. Please don’t take offense to it. I need to hear it from you specifically. I _need_ to hear you say it.”

Gavin tensed, already knowing what he was about to be asked. Hank took a moment to allow him to prepare for the blow before sighing.

“Do I need to hold onto your gun?”

Gavin didn’t answer. His trembling was starting up again. Hank was growing tense.

“Gavin?” He tried again, this time rewording the question. “Do you plan on using your firearm to harm yourself or someone else?”

Nothing.

“I need you to answer.”

Gavin looked up, angry.

“And if I don’t? What will you do? Take it?! Suspend me? Send me back to that stupid old bitch, Megan—”

“I sent you to Megan,” Hank said. He was speaking slow and careful, calm. A tone he had perfected throughout the years of being both a cop and a father to a newly sentient and emotionally unstable species. “Because I was afraid you were going to do something you were going to seriously regret.”

Hank never once thought Gavin was going to use it to shoot himself. That underlying message must have carried over because Gavin suddenly burst into laughter. It was a hollow, dead sound that caused a shiver of goosebumps to shoot up Hank’s arms, but the lieutenant kept his expression stoic and patient because he understood all too well where that numb hate was coming from.

“I wouldn’t have regretted it,” Gavin finally said in a tone that matched that haunting laugh. Hank momentarily reconsidered his decision to not schedule Gavin for another psych evaluation.

He couldn’t do that, though. He couldn’t afford to lose Reed and he would. Immediately. The situation was far too fragile to suggest something like that.

Instead, he repeated the question.

“Do you plan on using your firearm to harm yourself?”

A heartbeat. Another one. And then Gavin slowly shook his head. Hank swallowed down the lump again.

“Do you plan on using your firearm to harm someone else?”

Price. Do you plan on harming Lieutenant Andrew Price, Gavin Reed? That is what your superior officer is asking you.

No. The answer was no. Gavin didn’t. At least… Not anymore.

Six years ago, Fowler had sat Gavin down in this very office and told him the news that Andrew Price could not and would not be held accountable for destroying everything Gavin had ever held dear to his heart. All the charges that Hank had helped him press against Price were going to be dropped and expunged from his record. Actually scrubbed clean and removed entirely. As if Gavin had been mistaken. As if they had no right to have even been placed on that record in the first place.

 _Lack of evidence_ was the reason. There was no proof that it was Price who orchestrated the series of events that had taken Gavin’s entire world from him. All Gavin had was a cell phone and a strong belief. The commissioner told him that wasn’t enough evidence to pin anyone for a crime, especially not a seasoned officer.

Even if he had enough evidence, the district attorney had told Fowler, that there was no jury that would take Gavin seriously because they would have to consider his family’s medical history. The one that had bipolar disorder, anxiety disorders, depression, depersonalization, drug addiction, alcoholism, and _suicidal tendencies_ splayed across it like it was something to be proud of. That history.

Gavin’s favorite excuse, though, was that the whole case was considered a conflict of interest. It could never be explained to him in a way that made sense. Was the conflict that Reed and Price were coworkers? That they worked in the same precinct? Because he had gotten Hank involved and his lieutenant had helped him? 

It had turned out, ironically, that the _real_ conflict of interest was with the commissioner, the DA, and Andrew Price. All three (and Gavin had found this out about a year later) were _extremely_ good friends. They went as far back as grade school, in fact. Each one had been known to have the other’s back no matter the circumstance. _Apparently,_  sweeping multiple class felonies under the rug and expunging a record was one of those circumstances.

Fowler had told him all of this with a heavy heart. It had been the only time that Gavin had ever seen the man actually look apologetic and upset. He was simply the messenger with a fucked up message. Gavin believed him when he offered his condolences. He had believed him when he said that he and Hank had both done everything they could do and they were currently fighting to try to at least get Price transferred to a different district (a feat they had managed to pull off within the week).

Hank and Fowler both told Gavin that the verdict was bullshit. They told him that they believed everything Gavin had said. They would stand by him if Price were to try anything. They had told him they had his back.

Gavin just had to put up with the prick for a week. One week and Price would be out of Gavin’s life for good.

Gavin Reed had a week to plan a murder.

He didn’t waste a single second of that time. For three days, Gavin had stayed awake and obsessed over schematics and maps. He had stalked Andrew Price, followed the man home and watched him from a safe distance in order to learn all of his habits, hobbies, and routine. He knew that Andrew Price was constantly fiddling away on his computer; either on it or inside it, messing with the wires, cables, and components. He knew that Price would lock himself in his room for hours after pacing around his house like a lunatic for several minutes. He knew that Price sometimes fell asleep at the table, at his computer, on the couch, and, on several occurrences, the floor.

Getting away with it wasn’t as much of the focus as it should have been. Gavin’s main concern was making sure he succeeded. From time-to-time, getting caught sprung up in his mind and he sedated the thought by learning to be okay with the consequences. Four days of no sleep made that a surprisingly easy thing to do.

The day that he had set to do it, two days before Price was going to be transferred to Southwest Police Department, Gavin Reed had wiped his computer clean and cleared out his desk, making sure to remove anything that could be considered incriminating from it. He had grabbed his bag, swung it over his shoulder, said his silent goodbyes to the coworkers he didn’t care for and the job he had fought through hell to achieve... and then he headed towards the lobby.

It hurt more than he thought it would. Leaving, that is. But he had already made up his mind.

He was going to Price’s house. Andrew should be home now and if he wasn’t, then Gavin would wait for him. A week wasn’t enough time to plan out something like this but he was out of time. Andrew had become increasingly paranoid for some odd reason, but Gavin couldn’t put much thought into that. He hadn’t really put much thought into anything lately.

Besides, Gavin had been growing paranoid too. He was out of time, running on five days with little-to-no sleep. He had been missing obvious details lately.

There was only one thing on his mind: he was going to kill Andrew Price. He had made it to the lobby, had fought the urge to look around one last time, and prepared to sign his life away…

Tina Chen had stopped him at the door.

She had heard what had happened and didn’t want him to be alone. He clearly needed support, she said. She was worried about him, she said.

Gavin couldn’t get rid of her. No amount of excuses turned to dismissals turned to insults could get her to leave. She ended up following him home, invited herself in, and ordered them both a stupid amount of Chinese takeout. She guilt-tripped him into eating and helped herself to his television.

After the second cheesy, B-rated movie, Gavin accepted that Price was going to live. He decided to enjoy Tina’s company and the two of them watched another three movies before he passed out on the couch.

When he had woken up, it was the middle of the afternoon the next day. He had slept for _hours_ and could think clearly for the first time in days. Tina had fallen asleep in his arms, her head had been resting on his chest.

She had no idea what she had done. She had no idea what she stopped him from. She had no idea she saved Price’s life and probably Gavin’s too.

Something about that restarted him.  _Never_ had he thought himself capable of murder. It was as if someone else had been controlling his body and he was just _allowing_ it. A type of autopilot that shut off all his emotions and rationality.

It scared him. He was afraid of himself. He had told himself he would never be like that list. The medical history that the Reeds were nearly known for. He had told himself that would _never_ be him.

But he allowed it to be and it shook him to his very core.  

_MURDER IS WRONG. MURDER IS WRONG. MURDER IS WRONG._

Following shortly after that was his mandatory therapy sessions with Megan Wine. Tina hadn’t been the only one to notice his deteriorating health. Hank had pulled him into Fowler’s office and delivered the news.

Six months of therapy. No gun. Desk duty.

It wasn’t meant as a punishment but Gavin couldn’t help but feel like Hank had seen right through him and knew what he had planned to do.

There were times during therapy that he had been honest with Megan, but their sessions rarely broke the surface of Gavin’s actual issues. There was a lot he couldn’t discuss with her. There was a lot he couldn’t discuss with anyone. That included Hank.

So, in Captain Fowler’s office, while sitting in the guest chair after having an embarrassing mental breakdown in front of his boss who was kneeling in front of him and waiting for him to answer the question he had just asked: _‘Do you plan on using your firearm to harm someone else?’_

Gavin shook his head no.

Hank sighed, seemingly in relief. His body slackened as if a weight had just been lifted off his shoulders and he looked up at Gavin with a smirk on his face. He looked exhausted.

“You’re gonna be okay, kid,” he said. Hank knew better than to touch Reed but he’d be lying if he said that he didn’t want to at least pat him on the shoulder. Comforting Gavin was hard. “You’re not alone in this, alright? I told you I had your back and I fucking meant that.”

Truthfully, Gavin had had his doubts about that. Hank had his back all those years ago too but a lot of time had passed between then and now. That had brought a lot of history with it. They had always butted heads but when it came to Andrew Price, Hank had remained dependable. He had even taken Gavin’s side during the accusations despite having clearly been friends with Andrew.

“You punched him.” Gavin gave a weak laugh. It was broken and breathy, but it was a chuckle nonetheless. He shook his head in disbelief. “You fucking punched him.”

Hank grinned.

“Yeah, I guess I did.”

“He’s going to be so pissed.”

“Good.”

“He’s going to tell Fowler. He’s going to get you written up.”

“Like I give a shit,” Hank said, with a shrug and a roll of his eyes. “Connor already calls my disciplinary folder ‘The Chronicles of Anderson.’ Might as well make it into a fucking series.”

Gavin stared at him for a moment before bursting into a laugh. It was genuine. Raw. Real. A harsh contrast to the dead one he had given a few minutes before. Hank had never heard Gavin laugh like he was now and it made him realize just how often Reed forced or faked the sound.

Hank gave him a moment to sober, and then the elder stood. His knees cracked upon doing so and he let out a pained groan.

“You are so fucking old, Anderson,” Gavin said in amusement, the smile from before was still on his face and there was no malice in his tone.

“Yeah, yeah.” Hank went to wave him off in dismissal but he stopped himself as a thought occurred to him. “Thank you, by the way.”

Gavin looked confused.

“For helping Connor out, I mean. It might not have been your exact intentions,” Hank started, giving the detective a knowing look. He knew Gavin way too well. “But I appreciate you helping him. He doesn’t always remember he’s allowed to leave an 'unpleasant' conversation.”

Gavin snorted and playfully rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, no kidding,” he mumbled under his breath. There had been several instances Gavin could name where he himself had gone out of his way to try and aggravate the android. Connor had always just stood there and taken it. The deviant was a terrible distraction for misplaced aggression.

Hank did not seem amused, but he didn’t comment. Instead, he let out a long, exhausted sigh and ran his fingers through his hair.

“Are we good?” he asked. Gavin shrugged with one shoulder.

“I’d think we’re about where we were before,” he said. That wasn’t true and they both knew it but this was getting way too sentimental for either one of them.

“I can live with that,” Hank said with a snort. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

Gavin nodded, sniffing away the last remnants of his meltdown before throwing the hood of his jacket over his head. In his frustration, he had pulled his hair out of its normal style. His bangs, which had grown significantly longer (long enough to touch the point of the scar on his nose), curtained his face and effectively covered his red-rimmed eyes.

“I need a cigarette,” Gavin said. The hood helped hide his inflamed and puffy face, but if it wasn’t for the badge clipped on his hip, he would look like a junkie.

“Go,” Hank said. “Take however long you need. When you get back, I’ll come with you to interrogate that guy you just brought in. Sound good?”

A nod.

“Are you good?” Hank asked. Reed looked at him through his dark bangs and nodded again. “Alright, my little emo kid. Let’s get outta here, yeah?”

Gavin snorted.

“ _Whatever_ , you fucking dinosaur!” He said, the ghost of a smirk twitching at his lips. “I literally hear you breaking when you stand up. How are you not dust?”

“Such a douchebag,” Hank said, laughing. He opened the door for Gavin and the detective stepped out of the office. Anderson followed shortly after.

They had left the office walls dark.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I mention that I love giving folks anxiety?
> 
> First things first. I want to thank everyone who had commented, bookmarked, or simply READ this story. It means a lot to me, you guys! You all make me so happy!
> 
> Secondly, this is being posted a lot later than I had wanted it to be. I'm sorry. I seriously injured my back (I wasn't even doing anything cool!) and it was so bad that I couldn't walk for three days let alone sit down and type. Then, I had family come and visit for a few days, and THEN it was my son's birthday. So, of course, I was busy with that. 
> 
> Anyway, now I'm here. The next chapter won't take as long because almost all of it was supposed to be in this one which means it's practically written already. So hopefully that will be up fairly soon. 
> 
> Last but not least! I'm not sure how to answer some of your questions without giving away spoilers! Some of you pick up and analyze things that I had added but didn't actually think anyone would catch. To see it being mentioned makes me so giddy with excitement. YAY! I MAKE SENSE! AHH!
> 
> As always, I apologize for any and all grammatical errors, spelling mistakes, or overall confusion you may have stumbled upon thus far. I have yet to go through this with my fine-tooth comb of edits, but I've been staring at this chapter for far too long for me to effective pickup anything else.
> 
> Thank you SO much for reading!


	6. Chapter 6

Connor was sitting at his desk, the Manilla folder he had swiped from Price was open and he was flipping through the notes within it. Lieutenant Andrew Price (who did _not_ leave the police precinct despite Hank’s strongly worded suggestion) was currently pacing the hallway. Occasionally, he would throw a glare the android’s way, but he hadn’t actually ventured over to confront Connor yet. Connor had already mentally prepared for that conversation should it happen, but the glances Price was giving towards Fowler’s darkened office suggested the guest lieutenant was waiting for Hank instead.

This was fine with the android who was also waiting for Hank but was far more subtle about it; using his time to read the seemingly simple homicide case that had been assigned to Detective Reed, and trying to figure out why it had interested Price so badly.

The victim in the case was Malcolm Owens. He was murdered in his home, shot four times in the chest by Vincent Davis, age 27. Vincent lived at home with his mother, Gina Davis, who had passed away about a week ago from a drug overdose. Malcolm Owens had been Gina’s dealer as well as her ex-boyfriend.

Vincent had become suspect number one after a neighbor saw him arguing with Owens outside Owens’ house. Davis had tried to take a swing at Owens several times, the latter of whom managed to deflect the assault (looking at the pictures of the two, Malcolm had about fifty pounds over Vincent, so it was easy to see how).

According to the witness, Malcolm Owens left the confrontation to grab something in his home; presumably a weapon. Davis had followed him through the front door which Owens had left open.

There was more yelling, followed by gunshots, followed by a 911 call.

This morning, Vincent Davis had been apprehended at his late mother’s house by Detective Gavin Reed and Officer Chris Miller. He was currently waiting for interrogation despite having already confessed to the crime and _‘was crying like a little bitch the whole time’_  (this last note wasaccording to Reed’s chicken scratch handwriting; an addition that obviously wouldn’t be in the permanent, digital record).

There wasn’t much information besides that. It was an easy case and not a very interesting one either. There was nothing ground-breaking or exciting enough to earn respect with higher-ups about it. Gavin had literally been assigned it and had solved it within the day. The perp confessed before (according to Gavin’s notes) Reed and Chris had even finished introducing themselves. It wasn’t anything award-worthy and it was very weak in regards to bragging rights.

So why did Price throw such a hissy fit over it? Did he want something easy to complete and added to his closed cases? It wouldn’t have been able to count. It didn’t fall under his district. It wouldn’t have earned his department anything new when it came to numbers.

Was he friends with the perp, Vincent Davis? That would bring a conflict of interest issue with it, but even if he was _,_ there was far too much damning evidence against Davis for an experienced lawyer to do _anything_ for the man, let alone Price.

“Hey… Connor?”

Connor looked up, blinking himself out of his thoughts. Detective Benjamin Collins was standing in front of his desk. He was shifting his weight from foot-to-foot and wringing his hands, preparing the words for whatever he had come over for.

“Hello, Detective Collins,” Connor greeted with a smile. He closed Gavin’s case file and set it on his desk in front of him. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

“Yeah,” he started, but then shook his head. “Well, no. Not exactly.”

Connor tilted his head in curiosity, encouraging the older man to continue.

“So, I don’t… exactly know what happened just now,” Ben said, waving in the general direction towards the breakroom. “And I know that you normally go to Hank about these sort of things, but I wanted you to know that if anyone is giving you any trouble, you can come to me too, alright? I’ll fight for ya just as hard as anybody else.”

Connor stared at the detective, close to dumbfounded as he replayed what Ben had just said on a loop in his processor. The corner of his lips began twitching in the threat of a smile and he shyly dropped his gaze into his lap, a light blue blush raced across his nose and cheeks as he tried to think of how to respond to what the detective had just offered him.

Haley’s comment from earlier kept coming to mind, ‘ _Benny is the sweet dad that has no idea what is going on but is proud of everyone anyway.’_

“Thank you, Detective Collins,” Connor finally said, his tone full of gratitude and a lingering awe. “I really appreciate that.”

Ben let out a chuckle that jiggled his big belly and shook his head in amusement.

“Call me Ben, please,” he said. “You been here how long, kiddo? You’re still so polite.”

“Ben,” Connor corrected, his blush darkening just a bit. “That… really does mean a lot to me.”

Ben watched the android with a smile on his face, all while secretly trying to figure out how someone could look at an android and not see a living creature. Their reactions were too accurate and their mannerisms and personalities were far too unique from one another for him to ever think they were nothing but computers.

True, he had had his doubts in the beginning but most people had. An android revolution was a crazy concept and a debate he had tried to stay out of (the same way he stayed out of discussions on religion and politics). He hadn’t had too much of an opinion on it when everything was happening, but as things progressed, it had become inevitable to pick a side.

The calls he had gone out to during the aftermath of the revolution had played a huge part in swaying his opinion. Humans were the ones calling the police, but humans were also the ones that were the cause of all the destruction, the assaults, the murders, the riots, the robberies whereas androids were pacifist, peaceful, and kind. Every single one Ben had come across had been nothing but helpful. They never caused destruction. They never caused riots or panic or assaults. They never made Ben’s job harder than it needed to be. Deciding whose side Ben Collins was on had been becoming an easier and easier task. By the time bills were being written up and in law-making limbo, Ben was heavily in favor of the androids.

What had won him over entirely was Connor. More specifically, Connor’s impression on Hank.

After the accident that had taken his son’s life, Hank Anderson had become a shell of the former lieutenant, man, and friend that Ben had known him to be. It was no secret that the man had tried to drown himself in a bottle of booze each night. His depression showed in everything he did, and Ben had been worried—truly worried—for him. The detective had brought his concerns to Fowler on more than one occasion, but both men were limited in what they could do for someone who refused help. 

Apparently, Connor was unable to see those limitations for he had looked at them like a line in the sand and stepped over them as if they were actually just that. _Sprinted_ over them would probably be more accurate if Hank’s explanation about what the android had done was anything to go by.

In the two years since Hank had taken Connor in, the lieutenant was noticeably healthier. He had lost weight and even gained a bit of muscle. His beard that used to be rough and frazzled, was now well-barbered and neatly trimmed, and the same could be said for the silver locks on his head.

Professional. Hank looked professional now. He also smiled; genuine smiles and laughs and happiness that Ben hadn’t seen the man wear in years. Connor had done that. Connor had helped pull Hank out of the pit of despair he had fallen into and it had been a deep, _deep_ pit. He had changed the most anti-android thinking man’s mind about his species in less than a week; and in less than two years, he had brought back the vigor Ben had missed so much in his friend.

“You’re a good kid, Connor,” Ben said, a warm smile on his face and admiration in his tone. “I’m heading out to lunch now, but if you ever need anything — anything at all, you know how to get ahold of me, right?”

Connor nodded.

“Good!” The detective said with another hearty laugh. He clapped the android on the arm, affectionately. “Good! I’ll see you around, kiddo.”

Connor watched the detective leave, a smile twitching at his lips after thinking over the offer. Ben was the second person to approach him after the incident with Price and Gavin in the breakroom. The other had been Chris Miller. Chris had stopped Connor in the bullpen a few feet away from the android’s desk. He had been by the holding cells talking with Hank when everything had happened, but he wasn’t interested in the details behind the fight. Instead, he was concerned about Connor’s wellbeing; a question that had seriously caught the android off guard.

 _“I saw Gavin clock you right in the face, man,”_   he had said, rubbing his own jaw and wincing in sympathetic pain. _“I wanted to make sure you were alright.”_

Connor had assured him that he was perfectly fine and tried to remind the officer that androids do not experience pain the same way humans do, but it took more than those simple reassurances to convince the man. Connor had to explain that Gavin hadn’t actually punched him; instead, he had used the heel of his palm to hit Connor at his jawline. It had startled the android, absolutely, but it hadn’t hurt at all. It didn’t even register any damage alerts in his HUD. Gavin’s goal had been to free himself from Connor, not incapacitate him.

This seemed to make Chris feel a little bit better, but he had still left the conversation and headed for his desk with a look of concern on his face. This was after he had apologized for Gavin’s actions, explaining that Gavin had some stuff going on at the moment that was really messing him up.

 _“It doesn’t make it okay for him to hit you though, alright?”_ Chris had said, talking to Connor like… like…

_‘…the sweet older brother that is constantly trying to cheer everyone up!’_

_“If anyone gives you any shit, you defend yourself, okay?”_ The look Chris had given Connor suggested that the man wasn’t asking if Connor was capable of doing just that but telling him that he was allowed to if need be. As if Chris wasn’t sure the android would defend himself should the opportunity present itself. _“And if you ever need help with something, Connor, I’m usually just right over there. You can come get me for anything, alright?”_

Connor had agreed to that too, the same warmth in his chest from Ben’s conversation had also been present after talking with Chris. It was a nice, sentimental feeling, but it was bringing a realization with it and Connor couldn’t help but wonder if he was seen as a bit of a pushover around the office...

More on that later. Right now, he was waiting for Hank. More specifically, he was waiting for _Gavin_ and Hank, the former of whom was the lead on a case with a file that Connor was currently in possession of. The android desperately wanted to give it back because Price was starting to weird him out a bit.

His eyes flickered over to the meeting room and he just managed to see Price walk past the cubicle dividers on what had to be his thirtieth lap. The lieutenant did not look happy. He almost looked as if he was mumbling to himself; venting off his frustrations and verbally shooing away anyone who dared to approach him. Every so often, he would stop between the dividers and either stare at Connor, the dark office that Hank and Gavin had gone into, or his phone that he would fish out of his pocket.

Connor never once looked over at the man, and had actually only known all of this from hacking into the precinct’s camera feeds to watch the lieutenant from there.

Wireless displays worked differently than direct connections for Connor. He was limited to what the camera could do. In this case, Connor didn’t have the ability to zoom, he did not possess audio, and the camera itself was stagnant and fixed to face the meeting room door, but the lens was wide enough to catch the length of the hallway Price was pacing, only clipping off at the very ends. Price only stayed out of the camera’s eye long enough to U-turn before he appeared once more waltzing across the feed.

The display itself was once again his HUD, but he could virtually project it onto a flat surface and work around it as if it were an implanted tablet or television. The feed was currently on his desk next to Gavin’s folder, but before that, it was actually _in_ the folder on the opposite page Connor had been reading while he looked over the case notes. He had pushed it onto his desk when Ben had come over to talk to him and was now lazily watching it while waiting for Fowler’s office doors to open.

**_THWACK!_ **

Connor jerked back in surprise, rolling his chair back several inches from his terminal in doing so. Something had shot across his desk, skittered along the surface and smacked into the cubicle wall. He was still linked to the camera feed and he quickly tried to disconnect from it while simultaneously working to assess the situation. He was promptly failing at both.

When he finally managed to get himself under control (cheeks blue from being so embarrassingly caught off guard and reacting the way he had), Connor pushed his chair back to try and find what had been fired at him. It had fallen in the gap between his desk and the board, so it was most likely somewhere on the floor, but just as he was about to lean forward to inspect under his desk, his search was cut short with another:

**_THWACK!_ **

Connor jumped again, though he was significantly more composed the second time seeing as how he wasn’t sharing his mind out to another source this go-around. This projectile didn’t fall under his desk; instead, landing on the surface, twisted into an asymmetrical infinity sign. It was tan and rubber—elastic and thin…

A rubber band?

He tilted his head to the side and picked it up, looking at it curiously before searching in the direction it had come from. He heard the culprits before he actually saw them. The giggles gave them away.

Heather and Haley were crouching behind the island of cabinets in the middle of the bullpen directly across from Connor’s desk. They surfaced like prairie dogs, exposing only the bridges of their noses and up when actually aiming and firing before ducking back down in a fit of concealed giggles.

He pretended he hadn’t seen them yet and patiently waited for them to submerge back into cover before darting to the island on the opposite side they were hiding behind. He remained in a crouch as he quickly shimmied along the side, taking the longer route to safely emerge farther away from them and remain unnoticed.

There was enough space between them now for Connor to stand up and work his way behind the two who still thought he was sitting at his desk.

“Don’t actually hit him, Heather!” Haley said in a hushed whisper. Heather had a hand to her mouth, trying to conceal her laughter.

“I didn’t mean it to be that close! That was an accident!”

Haley armed herself with another rubber band. She poked her head up above the surface with a smile on her face that quickly melted into confusion at the sight of the empty desk.

“Wait, he’s… Where did he go?” Haley asked, her eyes darting all around Connor's workstation.

“Right here,” Connor said, appearing quite suddenly and right in-between them. Both girls jumped back in high screams, hands to their chests, and LEDs strobing red for several blinks before they registered what had happened and erupted into laughter.

“Don Don, you’re a ninja!” Heather said through her giggles. Haley nodded in agreement.

“For real! How did you do that?! I _just_ saw you in your chair!”

Connor smirked and shrugged, feigning ignorance as he stood up to his full height.

“Trade secret,” he said, earning a playful eye roll from both girls. He smiled again and offered his hands to both of them to help them up off the floor; a gesture they both took.

“Yeah, okay, _Mr. CyberLife Special Edition_ ,” Haley said, lowering her voice in a mock impersonation.

“No,” he said, fighting the blue blood that wanted to rush up to his cheeks. He dropped his gaze in hopes of hiding it. “Not special… just a prototype.”

“A CyberLife _limited edition_ then,” Heather said.

“Not by choice,” he added. “What are you guys up to anyway? Aside from trying to assassinate me.”

“It’s lunchtime, dear one,” Haley said, tapping at her wrist as if she was wearing a watch. “Aren’t you normally outta here with Hank around this time?”

“Yeah,” Connor said, absentmindedly glancing back at the darkened office. “But something kind of came up…”

“ _Oooooooooooooh!_ ” Heather and Haley both said in unison, their interest immediately piqued. 

“Dish out the _dirt,_ Don Don!” Heather said, playfully punching Connor’s arm. It obviously didn’t hurt (it wouldn’t have even if he were human), but he awkwardly rubbed at it anyway.

“I’m not sure I follow…” Connor said, looking confused as he walked around the island and back to his desk. The girls followed after him. Haley gave an over-exaggerated groan, actually rolling back her head and slouching her posture in a lazy slump.

“Baby-love, don’t mess with my Thirium pump!” She shook her head as if disappointed and clicked her tongue but the smile on her face suggested she was simply teasing him. _“Gossip,_ Connor! We want _gossip_!”

“Yeah, what was all the yelling about?” Heather asked. She had helped herself to Connor’s chair, plopping down into it and grabbing the rubber band she had shot at him earlier, stretching it out in front of her face.

“You guys could hear that from the front?” Connor asked.

“You could probably have heard it from outside,” Haley said, leaning back and against the island’s countertop. “Very shouty back here. And very boring up there… so _dish!_ ”

“I’m… actually still trying to figure it out myself,” he mused.

Fowler’s office door suddenly opened, drawing the attention of all three androids. Gavin walked out of the room first. His hair was a mess, most of it now lay in his face, effectively covering his eyes that were downcast and avoidant. The hood of his jacket had been drawn up and he marched like a man on a mission: down the steps, straight into the hallway, and making a hard left towards the front of the precinct. His destination was clearly the lobby, but he was making a point to go the long way around the building, avoiding Southeast’s temporary office setup entirely.

“Is Gavin alright?” Haley asked, a concerned frown on her face.

“No,” Connor said. “I don’t believe he is.”

Hank came out shortly after the detective, descending the stairs much slower than Gavin had and walked into the bullpen. A lopsided grin had been on his face that stretched into a full smile as he looked up and saw the three androids hanging around his desk.

“Hey, girls,” Hank greeted. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

“My goodness, Hank! You too?!” Heather said with a laugh.

Haley shook her head in amusement.

“You must have been hella busy back here to not notice it’s time for lunch.”

“Holy shit, is it really that late?” Hank asked, dropping down into his chair and waking up his computer. The girls nodded an affirmative. Connor snorted.

He understood their amusement. Hank was not a punctual man by design, he only made it to work and other arrangements on time because of Connor. But when it came to lunch and food, Hank was always fifteen to twenty minutes early. He would drag Connor out of the station, bicker with the android about his eating habits while on the way to get food, and would either cave and get a salad (if Connor played the guilt-trip cards right) or would aggressively eat his food while maintaining eye contact with the peeved android the entire time.

No matter the decision on what to actually eat, though, Hank was never late for lunch.

“Is everything okay, Hank? With Gavin, I mean? He kinda left in a hurry,” Haley said, bobbing her head towards Fowler’s office. Connor looked over at it and suddenly noticed the walls were still tinted. His Thirium pump picked up a few extra beats in his excitement, but he kept his expression neutral.

“Oh… yeah,” Hank said. “Yeah, everything’s fine. Just work stuff we needed to figure out. No worries.”

He offered her a warm smile that would have been convincing if it wasn’t so obvious that Gavin was not okay. Haley wasn’t buying it anyway. Her LED was a steady, thoughtful yellow under her bangs and her eyebrows were pressed down in consideration.

“That does remind me, though… Connor,” Hank started. The android perked up. “Gavin is going to be working with us for the rest of the day, alright?”

Connor nodded in understanding. He honestly figured as much but had mixed feelings about that. Despite the detective's strangely protective behavior today, he _was_ still Gavin Reed…

“Uh-oh!” Heather suddenly said, eyes widening. She spun in Connor’s chair to face his terminal in a weak attempt to hide. “Here comes Lieutenant Loser.”

Hank, Haley, and Connor all looked at her in confusion and then twisted to see Andrew Price making his way through the bullpen, weaving around the desks and tables so he could end up on Hank’s side of the combined desks.

“Anderson,” Price called. “We need to have a chat.”

Hank looked him over, an almost bored expression came over his features.

“Didn’t I kick you outta here?” he asked, raising an eyebrow in curiosity.

“I would prefer to go someplace private, if that’s alright with you,” Price said, ignoring Hank’s comment.

“Oh, no… no, no, no, you lost that privilege, Andy,” Hank said, not even bothering to get up from his chair. “You want to have a ‘chat’ you can have it wherever the hell I am and whosever company I’m in. My ass ain’t goin’ nowhere with you.”

Andrew’s eye twitched and he scoffed in annoyance.

“You assaulted me, Hank,” Price said, crossing his arms.

“I barely love-tapped ya!”

“You punched me.”

“Big whoop!”

“I have cause to contact your Captain over it!”

“With all due respect, Lieutenant Price,” Connor interjected. “Your actions are also enough cause to contact _your_ Captain. Your behavior towards a subordinate is more than enough means to get the HR department involved. Nothing you said was reputable of a newly appointed lieutenant.”

Price looked over at Connor, absolutely enraged.

“You don’t get to tell me how to do my fucking job, you obsolete piece of plastic!”

Hank was on his feet immediately; kicking his chair back and into the glass board behind him. A protective anger flashed behind his eyes and for a split second, it looked as if he was about to deck Price clear across the face again, but he held himself back from both an attack and jumping in to help Connor. Heather and Haley both tensed, there LEDs flashing a cautious yellow.

“I’m not telling you how to do your job. I’m telling you that you could lose it,” Connor said.

Price was fully facing the android now. The mask he usually wore to conceal his emotions was nowhere near his face. He was absolutely livid.

“Are you talking back to me?” His anger even leaked into his tone; dark, low, threatening. Hank was shifting from foot-to-foot in anticipation, clearly waiting to jump in and save his partner should this go too far, but Connor’s LED was staying blue and his face was still neutral. 

“Yes,” Connor said. “That _is_ how a conversation works.”

“You listen here, you plastic prick!” Price hissed, now well in Connor’s face. The guest lieutenant was approximately an inch taller than the android he was sizing up. This close, Connor couldn’t help but notice details about Price that he hadn’t before.

Andrew’s square-off stance and clean-shaven, crewcut appearance suggested he might be ex-military. He was more muscular in comparison to Connor’s lean and slender frame, but the lieutenant was acting like that mattered. The strength and skills of an android could not be determined by first impressions like they sometimes could with humans. Connor knew for a fact that, should this confrontation turn physical, this man would be on the ground within seconds.

Not that Hank would allow anyone to attack Connor. The man in question had actually moved around his desk and was right behind Andrew now, ready to step in the very _second_ this situation started to drift south.

Price continued, “I have been in law enforcement _long_ before you were even a thought let alone a fucking blueprint! You may think you’re superior to humans—to me, even, but we’re the ones that fucking _made_ you. Whatever you _think_ you know about the rules around here, I can assure you, I know more. Unlike you, I have _earned_ this position, and I will _never_ lose this job because I have the actual talent and skills for it.”

This isn’t the first time Connor had managed to get someone this riled up through a simple conversation, but admittedly, it was one of the first times he had done it on purpose. Ben and Chris’ offers of protection kept flashing in his mind, bringing with it the word ‘pushover’ which kept popping up in his head no matter how many times he tried to dismiss it. He honestly appreciated what Ben and Chris had said, was very happy that they had made a point to even bring it up to him… but he was starting to get frustrated.

He finally changed his neutral expression to a condescending grin he had ironically learned from the man in front of him and asked, “Are these the same talents and skills you used to locate your missing case folder, Lieutenant?”

Price’s eyes widened in fury, his nostrils flared, and his jaw clenched tight. He was _pissed_.

Behind Connor, Heather and Haley both had to stifle the sudden onslaught of giggles that had come over them.

 _:: Hot_ damn _, Don Don! ::_ Heather said, her face buried in her folded arms she had rested on his desk. They did very little to muffle her open laughter.

“Alright, that’s enough!” Hank finally cut in, looking back at Connor with an expression that was dumbfounded, proud, and panicked all at once. He wedged his way in-between the android and the guest lieutenant, forcing Price’s attention onto him instead. “What did you want to talk to me about, Andrew?”

Price wasn’t buying the distraction. His pale blue eyes glared at Connor as if he was trying to kill the android by merely staring at him. Connor offered him a polite smile that only seemed to irritate him further.

“That fucking robot needs to learn its goddamn place, Anderson!” Price said, pointing over Hank’s shoulder as if Anderson didn’t know what android he was talking about. Hank set his hands on Price’s chest and started to push him back, away from Connor and the girls.

“He didn’t do dick to you, Andy. Leave him alone. You came over here to talk to me. What the hell did you want?” Hank asked.

“I _wanted_ to discuss Detective Reed’s obvious mental instability with you,” Price started, his eyes still glued to the android. “But _now_ , I believe we should talk about the fucking computers with legs!”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Hank said. “On either topic. Now, why don’t you take my advice from earlier and get the fuck out of my precinct. I’m already sick of seeing your ass today.”

Price held his glare with Connor for a moment longer before finally snapping to Hank.

“You’re seriously going to stand there and tell me that Detective Reed is fit for duty?” Price asked, narrowing his eyes and pointing towards the front of the precinct. The anger he had gained from talking to Connor remained in his tone.

Haley and Heather both stiffened and Connor was pretty sure he understood why. If the girls really did consider the DPD to be their family, dysfunctional or not, then they were bound to take offense to any insults thrown at the officers. Connor felt the same way whenever someone, even teasingly, said something negative about Hank. He would have found it amusing that the girls were getting defensive when Price badmouthed Gavin, but not when the lieutenant had talked shit about their own species, but he could relate to that too. It was much easier to defend someone else than it was to defend yourself…

“I’m going to stand here and tell you that Gavin Reed is my business and not yours,” Hank said, matter-of-factly. Price narrowed his eyes.

“You’re not concerned?”

“Not at all.”

“Really?”

“Really,” Hank said. “You can piss off now. Thank you.”

Price huffed and rolled his eyes.

“Anderson, please think this through, would you?” Price said, almost sounding sympathetic. “You can't honestly believe that Gavin doesn’t suffer from some form of mental disorder—”

“I’m starting to think you might, Andy.”

Price frowned. The upper part of his mouth started twitching but he fought the scowl by pinching his lips tight. He took a deep breath and on the exhale, he was all smiles again.

“I’m simply looking out for Detective Reed, Lieutenant,” Price responded, his tone calm and collective and Connor was once again impressed by the human’s ability to keep such strong emotions in check. “After all, he did attack a superior officer in the breakroom.”

“The hell are you talking about—” Hank started, but realization dawned on him. He was suddenly irritated and shaking his head. “He didn’t touch you, Andrew. You know he didn’t touch you. I was the one that punched your sorry ass. Reed didn’t do shit.”

“The issue with you is a different one entirely,” Price said with a shrug. “As for Gavin, well, it really is unfortunate that he was in the hallway—right under all the security cameras…”

Hank’s stress levels and heart rate were starting to rise. Heather and Haley exchanged glances behind Connor. They didn't know the full story, but it wasn’t difficult to piece together where this conversation was going. Connor looked on in morbid fascination.

“Leave that kid alone,” Hank said through gritted teeth.

“The breakroom has no surveillance whatsoever. Were you aware of that, Anderson? I only just noticed it myself.” His smile and tone suggested otherwise and Price’s plan had suddenly become crystal clear. Price had positioned himself to remain in the breakroom and hadn’t started to antagonize Gavin until he was out in the hall and on camera. He had planned the attack out from the very beginning; openly taunted Gavin by mocking his family, his sanity, their history together—anything to get the detective to retaliate against him.

“If we brought it up to our superiors, who do you think they would believe? Honestly?” Price tilted his head in faux curiosity. He was talking to Hank the same way he had Hazeem and Alan. That tone, condescending and pompous—as if it was a privilege to be having a conversation with him. “Detective Reed has a history of hostility, does he not? It is not the first time he has threatened bodily harm on my person either.”

“What do you want?” Hank finally asked. He wasn’t going to play games with Andrew, especially since he knew where this was going. Price had a thing for theatrics. He liked to drag everything out.

The guest lieutenant smirked in triumph. His eyes darted to Connor’s desk, specifically the Manilla folder that was resting on its surface.

Connor caught what he was looking at and he quickly sent a ping to Heather. Her eyebrows dipped in confusion, but her attention dropped to the file. She slowly reached out and dragged it towards her, setting it on her lap and out of snatching distance from Andrew.

_What the hell was so special about that stupid folder?!_

Regardless of that, Price’s plan was brilliant. Sure it was sneaky and dirty, but those were two traits that already described the lieutenant. To think that the man was capable of coming up with a plan as quickly as he did; to blackmail Gavin and then use it to hold over Hank’s head in order to get exactly what he had wanted to begin with… It was something to be admired, in a sickening sort of way. Connor couldn’t help but be a bit impressed with the lieutenant’s attempt.

And it was an attempt. Because Connor was about to fuck it all up.

The android held up his hand and extended it towards Hank and Andrew and a rectangular hologram flickered to life in his palm. It was a mini-monitor. A display used for a variety of purposes, but the most common was for androids to share pictures or videos with their human counterparts. Connor pulled up the feed from the breakroom, starting the video just after Gavin tried to leave the conflict by grabbing Connor by the arm and dragging the android into the hallway.

_“Are you ever going to just grow the fuck up, Gavin?! It was years ago. Get over it!”_

Price’s voice burst from the speakers in Connor’s fingertips, in sync with the holographic video of smug and sneering and holier-than-thou; Andrew Price himself. The real Andrew Price was watching the video with wide eyes and an open mouth.

There was a zipping sound as Connor skipped the feed ahead, fast-forwarding several seconds before abruptly stopping it and allowing it to play. Price’s voice was once again crackling through the speakers; his laughing, mocking image on the display in Connor’s palm.

 _“Gavin! My goodness! I had forgotten how batshit-crazy you were!”_ A pause and then, _“It must run in the family.”_

Connor closed his hand into a fist, killing the feed before dropping his arm to fold neatly behind his back. He tilted his head and gave another polite smile.

“Your concerns about Gavin having a lack of visual evidence to support his claims have been noted, Lieutenant Price,” Connor said in a neutral tone, but his polite grin was turning mischievous. “And you’ll be happy to know that I am prepared to fulfill any and all of your needs. You are correct in your statement that the cameras in the department would have made it appear that Gavin had attacked you unprovoked. However, you needn't worry! My model is more than equipped to handle something as simple as recording an event that I was _personally_ present for.”

The look on Hank and Andrew’s face was absolutely comical. They both shared an expression that was a mix of stunned, surprised, and (in Price’s case) a bit horrified. Price recovered first, eyes darting around the room as he frantically thought of a way to regain control of the situation. Connor had blown a huge gaping hole in his plan. He could still go to the higher-ups, he could still report both Gavin and Hank, but in doing so he would be throwing himself under the bus as well.

Hank huffed out through his nose; a breathy laugh of disbelief. Price wheeled on him in an instant, ready to try to bark his way back into control, but his face was red and veins were popping out on his neck and forehead, and Anderson was now openly laughing at him.

_:: Connor, did Price really say that to Gavin? ::_

Connor blinked and looked back at Haley. Her LED was a steady yellow. Yellow meant many things, but steady colors were always brought on by emotion. Haley was upset. Connor’s eyebrows pulled together in concern, but he nodded in response to her question.

The former police android pulled in her bottom lip and worried it across her teeth. She dropped her gaze, thinking for a moment before turning on her heel and heading towards the front of the lobby. Heather looked up and blinked in confusion. She exchanged glances with Connor and then slowly rose to her feet.

 _:: Are you okay? ::_ Connor asked Haley just as she disappeared behind the corner.

 _:: I’m fine. ::_ She quickly pinged back. Even in his head, her tone sounded short and brisk. She must have thought so too because she added in a softer tone, :: _I’m_ _going to go check on Gavin. ::_

Connor didn’t respond to that, though he silently wished her luck. The likelihood of Gavin talking to anyone—let alone an android—were slim-to-none. He turned back to Heather. The ST300 was drumming her fingers on the folder Connor had asked her to take. She was mulling something over before finally coming to a decision and held out the file for Connor.

She had been on the communications channel too and obviously wanted to go with her friend. Connor understood and accepted the folder with a nod and a smile. He watched Heather hurry after Haley before turning back to the conversation with the lieutenants, just managing to catch the end of it.

“You need to get your _fucking_ robots under control, Anderson,” Price hissed. “Either get them in uniforms, lock them in storage, or get them the fuck outta here. They have _no_ fucking right to be wandering around recording shit without permission!”

“Andy,” Hank started, more than amused and not even attempting to hide it. “Get out of my bullpen.”

Price glared for a moment longer as if expecting… well… Connor wasn’t exactly sure what he was expecting. He had so obviously lost and there was nothing he could do to turn it back in his favor. He finally turned and marched out of the bullpen, beyond livid. He passed the meeting room and was heading towards the front, seemingly to leave the building, but Connor wasn’t optimistic about him staying away for the rest of the day. He would most likely be back.

“Such a fucking prick…” Hank mumbled under his breath. “And you!”

Connor jumped and looked over at his partner, shoulders tensing in anticipation. He could handle defending himself against a stranger, but there was no chance in hell he was going to survive a lashing from Hank. They held eye contact for a brief moment before Hank suddenly burst into a howling laugh.

“Where the hell did all that come from?!” he asked through his chuckles. “God _damn_ , Connor! At least offer the man a place to sit after you hand his ass back to him on a fucking _plate!_ ”

Connor gave a sheepish grin and a half-hearted shrug.

“You… You’re not mad?” he asked, unsure. Hank shook his head, finally sobering from his delight.

“Of course not! Why would I be? That was amazing!” He took a step closer to Connor and clapped the android on the shoulder. “I’m so proud of ya, kiddo.”

Connor’s chest swelled with a drunken giddiness. A dizzy smile drew on his face and he beamed at Hank with blue-flushed cheeks. He shyly dropped his gaze.

“Th-Thanks, Hank,” he said, causing the older man to laugh again. He shook his head and mumbled something about praise and puppies, but Connor was too high on happiness to fully comprehend it.

“Hey, listen,” Hank said, tapping Connor's arm again to regain the android’s attention. Connor looked up. “Gavin should be back any minute. I’m going to grab Chris, then get that guy he and Gavin just brought in and send him to the interrogation room—”

“Oh!” Connor interrupted. He held out the folder Heather had given him. “This is the file for that case. Gavin dropped it after… well, you know…” He vaguely gestured towards the breakroom and Hank nodded in understanding. He took the folder from his android.

“Thanks, kid. And hey, I hate to do this to ya but Gavin’s a little wound up at the moment… he doesn’t get like this often, but when he does, he does better with fewer people. Are you going to be okay to stay out here while we get a confession outta this guy?” Hank asked.

“Yes, of course,” Connor said, trying to keep his enthusiasm off his face. His eyes briefly flickered over to Fowler’s darkened office before landing back on Hank. The android nodded and added with a smile, “Anything you need.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sassy Connor is fun to write!
> 
> Alright, I didn't give much of a heads up on the angst level of the last chapter, for which I apologize, so I'm doing that now. Assuming I can do it right, the next chapter is going to get a little heavy... and prepare for emotional Connor whump. Poor sweetie... I shouldn't be allowed to play with you! :(
> 
> Anyway! Thank you so much for all your kind words, you guys! I haven't been responding to comments because I'm not really sure how to without giving things away, but I think I'm confident enough to go back and answer some questions now (I have no problem telling a story, but when it comes to talking to actual people my brain blanks out and melts on me!). I don't want you to ever think that your words aren't appreciated! They are and I love you!
> 
> As always, I apologize for any and all grammatical errors, spelling mistakes, or overall confusion you may have stumbled upon thus far.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Just a heads up - 
> 
> This chapter has some heavy themes but there isn't anything too graphic. It would be safe for a news article, but it's rough, guys...
> 
> I don't want anyone to be caught off guard. I love you all and never want to cause hurt or anxiety to any of you! This is the warning for that.
> 
> Also: *All OCs are for storytelling purposes only!

Gavin Reed did not have a lot of friends. He never really had, to be perfectly honest. All the ones that he had managed to make throughout the years were gone now; having moved away, died, or simply stopped talking to him for reasons that had probably been his fault. On most days, he didn’t mind his lack of company. The job of a detective (especially in the ‘City of Androids’) was a very demanding one. He barely had time to himself, he couldn’t imagine having to squeeze in someone else—friend, lover, or otherwise. So, again, on most days he didn’t mind.

On other days, though…

Gavin was currently sitting on the curb on the side of the DCPD building, facing the street. His gaze was fixed forward but he wasn’t looking at anything. An unlit cigarette limply sat between his lips; his elbow dug into his left leg to help support his head. His hood was still up and his hair was a mess, but his eyes were no longer red and puffy from his embarrassing little episode in Fowler’s office.

He was tired. Too tired to be upset or angry; his breakdown having robbed him of his energy. He didn’t want to go back in the building but he didn’t want to go home either. Getting up and moving was starting to feel like an impossible thing to do. Just the thought of it sent a sickening dread throughout his body; as if someone had poured the emotion on his head and let it wash through him. It left behind a heavy weight, a weight that he swore he could _physically_ feel. As if the thought of moving had actually made his body heavier.

 _Lazy_ , he chastised himself. Only it wasn’t laziness. It was something else. Something Megan would probably prescribe him pills for if she had still been his therapist. She had known all about his family’s medical history, especially in regards to the mental health aspect. She had liked to bring the topic up during their sessions together. She was convinced he suffered from _at least_ one disorder. He had been too scared to explore that further. He had been too scared to confirm it to be true.

The right corner of his mouth twitched in weak amusement. He pulled his lighter out of his pocket and finally lit his cigarette. He took a puff, exhaled the smoke, and turned his attention back to the other side of the street.

A little girl walked by on the sidewalk, holding onto her mother’s hand. The two were chatting about something, probably their plans for later. Both had wide smiles on their faces and the girl, who couldn’t have been older than six or seven, was skipping every other step. She was clearly excited about whatever her mother had just proposed to her.

The scene got a genuine smile out of him. He had always been a sucker when it came to women. Not in a sexual way (although, he was attracted to them and has had many intimate moments with them throughout his lifetime), but rather as an honest means of respect. All the major role models in his life had been female. All his closest friends had been girls.

He used to call them angels. When he was little, he was naïve enough to believe that’s what they were. His family was never religious (if they were, he sure as hell didn’t get the memo), and truthfully, he wasn’t sure nor did he care about where he stood on the topic himself...

But he believed in angels.

The first one he had ever met, as well as his very first friend, he had found when he was seven. She had been his next-door neighbor: an eight-year-old little girl named Connie. She had long, sandy hair that always seemed to be in her face and a face that always seemed to be dirty. She wore the same dress every day, no matter what she was doing, and on the day he had met her (followed by many days after that) she had been wearing it.

Connie had been playing in her front yard, right on the border between his house and hers. The property line was an actual one. It was made of mud most days, a slope that had been eroded by Michigan weather and was often a small stream, but that day it had been dry. Connie had been digging a hole around some broken glass from beer and wine bottles that she had stabbed into the earth.

A castle, she had told him when he asked. She was building a castle and wanted to dig a moat, but couldn’t find anything to dig with so she had to use her hand. Gavin had suggested using a spoon, but Connie said she wasn’t allowed inside because her mother’s boyfriend was in the kitchen cooking something that apparently wasn’t food. Neither one of them knew what that meant, but they both had found it to be funny. What else would you cook in a kitchen besides food?

Regardless, Gavin had gone into his own house to grab her a spoon. He had dug through the drawer for almost a minute looking for the cleanest one, but the spoons in Gavin’s house were always so gross. They all had a dark, shiny spot on the back of them; flecks of brown residue were splattered on the inside of the bowls and some even had a warped ring from liquid stains. He couldn’t find one that wasn’t like that. It had bothered him, but he had been taking too long and had wanted to go back and play. So, he had picked one at random and prayed the girl wouldn’t notice or say anything about it.

She had done both but not in the way he had been expecting.

Instead of teasing him, she had giggled and said, _“Hey! My spoons look like this too!”_

Looking back on the memory with an adult mindset, it made sense as to why. Where they both had lived, it was really only natural that their parents shared certain ‘hobbies.’ He had never questioned why the silverware looked the way it did when he was growing up in that house. He had never questioned a lot of things, actually.

At seven, all he had known was that if his mom’s eyes were open, that didn’t mean she was awake. That she sometimes liked to fall asleep on the floor or in the bathroom with a shoelace tied tightly around her arm. That his dad didn’t go to work and rarely left his chair except to grab a beer from the fridge. That if Gavin wanted food, he was going to have to ask his sister who was usually off enjoying her sixteen-year-old life …

Connie had helped him block out a lot.

The world was so much easier in their glass castle made of broken bottles and their moat dug out with their parent’s crystal meth spoons. Where she was a princess with a wardrobe full of the prettiest dresses and he was her knight who brought her buffets of the most amazing food.

Gavin had absolutely loved her. His sister would often tease him that they were going to get married one day and Gavin had found he would have been perfectly okay with that. Seven-year-old naivety at its finest.

About a year after they met, Gavin woke up at three in the morning to the sound of sirens. That in itself wasn’t unusual; the police were in his neighborhood often, but a bright, sickly warm light was also illuminating his room and he had left his bed to investigate. 

Connie’s house had caught fire. Her mother’s boyfriend had set up a crystal meth lab in the kitchen that had exploded and set the house ablaze. Gavin had gone outside in hopes of finding his friend, getting as close to the house as he could. He had been looking for her dress—the one she always wore. The only one she owned. The one that was faded and had all those holes and tears from playing in their glass castle…

The firemen had pulled out a scarecrow; something charred, black, and smoking. They had gently laid it in the grass before an EMT ran over to cover it up with a tarp. The smell had been far too terrible for Gavin to inspect it, but he knew it was her dog. It had been too small to be an adult and there were only two adults that lived in that house anyway: her mother and her mother’s boyfriend. The latter had not been pulled out of the house, but Connie’s mother was accounted for as she had been sitting in the back of an ambulance. Which had still left two people missing: Connie and the boyfriend.

Gavin never got to see if they made it. Melanie, his sister, had come barreling out of the house and nearly tackled Gavin to the ground. She dragged him away from the fire by picking him up and flinging him over her shoulder. He had screamed bloody murder the entire way to her car, but she had ignored him and shoved him inside, locked the doors, and then drove them both off into the city.

Gavin had eventually forgiven her for that. Despite knowing why she had been so adamant about getting him away from there.

Because deep down, even with the veil of childhood ignorance, he knew in his gut what that smoldering form in the grass had actually been.

He knew that Connie never had a dog.

Out of his head and back on the precinct's curb, Gavin lit another cigarette. He took a long, unhealthy drag out of it, trying to soak in as much tobacco as he could before closing his eyes and exhaling.

Memory lane was paved with garbage and bullshit. Connie had had the magnificent ability to look at literal trash and make something beautiful out of it. Her imagination and optimism had been contagious and, for a while, Gavin could see the beauty in things too.

Now, though… garbage just looked like garbage.

Two years after the fire had happened, two years of seeing the empty husk of a building that had become overgrown with weeds and grass so tall, it could effectively shelter an overabundance of random toys that Connie never owned (which Gavin had always found odd, considering that he was the only other child on this street), two years after Connie had become a literal angel… Gavin met his second one.

She wasn’t as pretty as Connie had been nor as creative, but she certainly had more dresses. They had met in school, during lunchtime one day where he had been sitting at the table by himself, pretending that the reason he hadn’t packed anything to eat was because he wasn’t hungry and not because his sister had left for college and couldn’t buy food for the house anymore.

She had sat down in the seat across from him and introduced herself as Emily. She had been a bigger girl; not fat just built more athletic, especially in her legs. She was also a bit of a chatterbox and did most of the talking between them. It had been annoying at first (especially when Gavin had discovered that she only ever talked to _him_ and had a completely different personality towards literally anyone else) but after he had gotten used to her unique character they had become fast friends.

Emily had lived at home with her mom and stepdad. She had thought that Gavin’s parents still being together was the coolest thing in the world. He had been too ashamed at the time to tell her that his parents were only married because his mother had gotten pregnant with Melanie and they had needed the insurance, or that his dad currently had a new girlfriend who also lived in the house with them, or that all three of them were usually too strung out to even notice each other.

When she had found out after he had inevitably told her, she hadn’t judged him and even confessed that she didn’t know who her real father was. The two of them would pass the time by coming up with fantastical stories about who he could be and what he was doing. Sometimes he was an amazing entrepreneur, sometimes he ran away to join the circus, sometimes he was a bum who slept on the beach…

The stories were engaging and entertaining and Gavin couldn’t help but throw in suggestions at times for her benefit. For his, she would come to school with a lunchbox _packed_ with food. Two, three, sometimes four sandwiches, snacks, water bottles, juice boxes, crackers—she brought it all.

 _“For lunch and dinner,”_ she would say with a shrug. _“In case you don’t have anything to eat at home.”_

He didn’t. He never did. Emily had kept him fed and full for the rest of the school year. During the summer, they had pinpointed a playground that was within walking distance from his house. Emily would convince her mother to drop her off and the two would play on the swing sets and jungle gym, talking for hours until her mother came to take her home.

Emily had been Gavin’s first kiss. They had been sitting at the top of the tube slide. It had been one of their favorite spots because, on the rare occasions that they didn’t have the playground to themselves, the other kids never followed them up there. After playing on the equipment for a few hours, they had always picked a spot to sit down and talk.

One day, out of the blue, she had leaned over and kissed him.

Gavin had suspected that Emily had a crush on him but didn’t have enough to go on to actually try and confirm it. After the peck, she had tried to go further, but Gavin had quickly stopped her. In his mind, she was perfect: beautiful, inspirational, sympathetic, kind—but he had never thought of her _that_ way. He had been afraid the rejection was going to push her away, but she had laughed it off and simply hugged him.

She had never pushed him to do anything else after that, but the kiss seemed to open a floodgate of sorts. She had known more about sex and intimate activities than what was appropriate for a girl her age; sometimes, going into explicit details about the genitalia of both sexes, and when she explained intimate acts to him, she spoke as if she had personal experience. She never brought it up and he never actually asked, but he knew something wasn’t right about that.

Emily couldn’t have _actually_ known what it was like to have sexual intercourse.

…Right?

That inquiry is what got her taken away from him. To this day, he doesn’t know what had compelled him to ask one of his teachers. Had Emily made him angry about something? Had he honestly been that curious? Had he truly been that worried? He didn’t know. But the question had spiraled into an investigation which had resulted in the police being called and Emily’s stepfather getting arrested.

All because of Gavin.

He had gotten to see her before social services took her away. She had been so mad at him; tearfully denounced their friendship and had given him a black eye for the betrayal. He had ruined her life, or so she had screamed until she was blue in the face. He had ruined her life and she hated him with every fiber of her being.

He had been so angry at himself that when he had gotten home, he had destroyed his room and sobbed on the floor until he passed out from exhaustion. Even now, as an adult, he still felt guilty for betraying one of his only friends. Someone who had gone out of their way to help make his life just a little bit easier. Someone who had inconvenienced themselves so that he could be warm and fed and feel loved and safe for once—and he had fucked it all up.

Adulthood brought a better understanding of what he had saved Emily from and he would adamantly do it again a thousand times over, but the knowledge did very little for the guilt. He had no idea where Emily was now. He sometimes wondered if she was safe. If she was still alive. If she was happy.

He sometimes wondered if she still hated him.

Gavin unclipped his police badge from his belt and circled his thumb over the gold shield. What good was being a police officer if you couldn’t even protect the ones you loved?

At this point in his life, who did he even have left to protect?

He didn’t exactly have friends. Gavin had never been a talk-it-out type, but friends could offer some much-needed distractions. He knew he limited options to hang out with people, given that he didn’t drink, but there _were_ ways to get around that.

Like watching B-movies and ordering takeout…

That earned another genuine smile from him. He didn’t call them angels anymore but if he did, Tina would undoubtedly be his fourth. Not that he could ever actually _tell_ her that, especially considering what she had done to earn it.

Fourth. No, he had miscounted again. He did that a lot when reminiscing. Connie wasn’t technically his first angel but rather his second. It had taken him a while to come to that realization. Roughly six years ago to be exact.

“Gavin?”

Gavin looked up and had to immediately squint. Even with the shade of his bangs, he was looking directly into the sun. He held up his hand to better make out the woman who was currently a dark silhouette. She took a step to the side so her body could block out the sun for him and a white light quickly raced around her outline, creating a halo that lasted only a moment before his eyes finally adjusted to see her face.

It was one of the front desk androids. She looked nervous but much more concerned. She was clearly trying to fight the overwhelming desire to fidget.

“Hey, I… um… I’m Haley.”

He already knew that. She and the other one, Heather, greeted him every single time he stepped within five feet of their line of vision. They were constantly smiling and giggling over every little thing anyone did. Androids were very odd creatures…

“Do you mind if I sit with you?” she asked him, shyly and unsure: two characteristics that didn’t suit her. He had always had the impression that she was rather outgoing. He probably intimidated her, though he wasn’t exactly sure as to why.

Contrary to popular belief, Gavin did not hate androids. He had at first, especially when Connor had come into the picture—the android that had been designed and created to specifically replace _him_ and take over _his_ job—but of all things to help ease his distaste for the species, it had ironically been them gaining free will.

With his job security no longer being threatened, Connor and his android companions had simply become additions to the world. They could still get annoying (androids had the innocence and the social interactions of unsupervised children), but the competition had severely balanced out.

He had never done anything to Haley (or the other one, Heather) to warrant them being frightened of him, but, in her defense, he was also aware of how he looked at the moment. He hadn’t bothered to fix his hair after leaving Fowler’s office and it was still hanging loosely in his face. The sun was still making him glare just a bit and he also hadn’t answered her. That in itself was a bit embarrassing, but he was careful not to let it show on his face. Instead, he simply shifted over, allowing her space to sit next to him.

He figured he could use a distraction.

 

* * *

 

Connor was once again sitting at his desk, buzzing with excitement and trying very hard to keep it to himself. His posture was ramrod straight and his hands were resting on top of his thighs as he patiently waited for the bullpen to be clear of any personnel he knew would stop him for a conversation or question his intentions. So far, everyone was accounted for, but he ran through the list one last time, just to cover all his bases:

Ben was at lunch. Gavin, when he returned, would head straight for interrogation. Price had left the building. Chris was with Hank, Hank was with Chris, and both men were back towards the holding cells to transfer the perp to interrogation…

Connor was finally in the clear!

He shot to his feet with a wide smile on his face and readjusted his tie out of habit. His eyes were locked solely on Fowler’s office as he ran his plan through his head.

Fowler’s machine was on and unlocked (not that he wouldn’t have been able to do either, but having them both checked off his list allowed him to be quicker). He knew this because Hank had accessed the controls in order to darken the room; inevitably giving Connor his cover (truthfully the only thing he had really been worried about). Now, all Connor had to do, was enter the room, connect to the computer, and leave when he was done.

As soon as he links with Fowler’s machine, he will have immediate access to all the data it contains. Files will appear to him like thoughts, blinking up and dismissing themselves at speeds the human mind would never be able to comprehend. Time was not an issue.

He had tried explaining the process to Hank on several occasions, but the older man kept calling it mind control (which was wrong on many levels but Connor wasn’t going to get into it again). Connected android’s _shared_ a mind. They didn’t control them. In this case, he was going to be sharing his processor out with a machine, boosting the hell out of it and allowing its processor to work off of his; hence why he would be obtaining data so quickly.

Interfacing. He would be interfacing with Fowler’s computer. A custom that was considered to be the most intimate action in his culture, and yet he continuously did it with literal, unfeeling machines as opposed to anyone within his own species.

The irony was not lost on him.

Connor checked one last time to make sure that Hank and Chris weren’t about to reappear around the corner before he stepped out and away from his desk. He made it two steps before he caught sight of something that instantly made the smile melt off his face. He quickly dropped back into his chair, whipped it around to face his cubicle wall, and then sunk down deep into his seat; praying that he hadn’t just been spotted.

Apparently, Connor wasn’t the only one to try to take advantage of Price’s absence. The android had completely forgotten about Southeast. More specifically, he had forgotten about Hazeem and Alan.

The two IT techs were both standing in the hallway, their trolley of equipment was in-between them, seemingly heading towards the breakroom to continue on with their project, but neither of the men were moving. Alan looked sheepish with a downcast gaze, watching his feet as he kicked at imaginary dirt. Hazeem was on his toes, an excited smile on his face as he frantically scanned the bullpen; clearly looking for someone. Connor amplified his audio and directed it towards the pair, but their conversation just confirmed what he already knew. They were looking for him.

“I’m sure we scared him off, Z,” Alan said. He sounded apologetic but not surprised.

“ _We?”_ Hazeem scoffed, and Connor knew he had rolled his eyes despite not being able to see the two. “ _We_ did no such thing. You were the one who was being a total dick to him.”

“I said I was sorry! You can’t hold that against me all day!”

“I can and I will!” Hazeem said, though his tone was taking on a more playful tone. “You know how much I’ve wanted to talk to a deviant android, Alan. One came up to _us_ and started a conversation! Human beings don’t even do that with us!”

Alan sighed.

“I know, man. I’m sorry! For real. But hey, we’re going to be working here for a while, right? We’ll probably see him again. Let’s just keep an eye out.”

“Yeah, okay…”

Connor reset his audio processors back to normal and frowned. Truthfully, he had no problem talking to the IT crew and he probably would seek them out sometime later, but right now he was in the middle of something he wasn’t supposed to be doing. He couldn’t risk being caught by them. He couldn’t risk them ‘keeping an eye out,’ especially with them working so close to Fowler’s office. He was going to need a distraction.

Connor’s attention shot to his desk; hoping to find something interesting enough to keep the Southeast IT department off his back. The more he scanned his desk, the more that hope was fleeting.

He kept his workstation way too neat. There was a cup full of pens (all blue as that was the only color he would write in (Hank had teased him about that once, but he had responded (correctly, not that Hank eased up on making fun of him) that blue was the color that all official documents should be filled out or signed in). A succulent plant in a small pot—an activation day (the android equivalent to human birthdays) present from Hank and something he treasured quite dearly. His keyboard. His terminal. The rubber band that Heather had—

Connor froze, staring at the elastic for a moment before activating his communication links.

:: _Heather! Are you there? I need you!_ ::

The other end of the line was silent; occasionally a low hum would vibrate down the channel, making Connor’s head feel funny—unrestrained emotions on Heather’s end. He wasn’t sure what would cause the secretary to feel so giddy but he didn’t question it.  

:: _Hello?_ :: he asked because she hadn’t answered. She had mentioned she wanted to go with Haley to check on Gavin, but he figured he would have managed to catch her in time.

:: _Hi, Don Don—Connor! Yes, I’m here. Hello! Sorry!_ ::

He felt the emotional buzz once more, this time it was more of a fluttery feeling, like bubbles. His eyebrows dipped in both confusion and concern.

:: _Are you okay?_ ::

:: _I’m—yes! You just need… me._ You _need me?_ :: Was she giggling? :: _How can I help?_ ::

_Ooookay?_

:: _I know you wanted to go with Haley, but I could really use a favor._ ::

:: _Oh! Of course! Haley’s fine. I mean… I_ was _going with her, but I caught up with her in the lobby and she told me I should wait. She said that I might come off as a bit ‘abrasive’ towards someone with Gavin’s personality. Can you believe that?! ME?! Abrasive?_ ::

Yes, he could believe that, but he wisely kept that to himself.

:: _Yeah... so, Heather, about that favor?_ ::

:: _I mean, sure! I guess I can come across as a bit of a bitch sometimes, but I totally get that Gavin is going through some stuff, you know? Then again, he does seem like the kinda person that would think people were crowding him, so I guess I get where she’s coming from._ ::

:: _Yes. Yes. Hank said the same thing to me. Something about Gavin doing better around fewer people. Now, please! I don’t have a lot of—_ ::

:: _See, that makes more sense! I can understand that, but still! I care about Detective Jerkface too, you know? ::_

 _:: Heather…_ :: Connor dragged out her name, his tone annoyed and almost whiny. :: _Please! I need your help. Southeast’s IT department is looking for me and I’m trying to do something without being noticed. Is there any way you can—_ ::

:: _What?! Why would they be looking for you? I’m coming back there, hold on._ ::

:: _No! No! Wait! Please, I don’t have a lot of time._ :: Connor pressed the palms of his hands into his eyes, clearly frustrated. He was normally very patient, but he always struggled with his tolerance when he was racing a clock. :: _Can you just distract them for me? I’ll send you their profiles._ ::

He did just that, sending quick videos of both Hazeem and Alan and a brief discussion of what they had been talking about before Price had interrupted them.

 _See! No threat, Heather,_ he thought while waiting for her response. _Don’t come back here swinging, you crazy bot!_

Finally, :: _Sure thing, Don Don!_ ::

Connor exhaled a sigh of relief and rolled his eyes. He waited a moment before chancing a glance behind him. Hazeem and Alan were no longer in the hallway but he didn’t want to risk being spotted by assuming their locations. Heather walked in from the lobby, stopping just short of the meeting room and looked around the hallway before glancing over at him with a confused expression and shrugging. He extended his arm over his chair and jabbed his pointer finger further down the hall.

:: _Breakroom._ :: He pinged, earning a smile and nod of understanding from the secretary. :: _If they’re working, they might ignore you. Just make sure they don’t leave._ ::

:: _You got it, Don Don! Just do your thing!_ ::

Connor let out a long, unnecessary sigh, puffing out his cheeks on the exhale. He watched Heather walk further down the hall until she disappeared around a corner while on her way to the breakroom. He then waited two heartbeats before he finally stood and made his way towards Fowler’s office.

The android darted up the stairs, catching sight of Heather talking to Alan and Hazeem who were ignoring her as they had with him. They probably didn’t know they were talking to an android again. Those poor fools. Connor would make it up to them after he got what he needed. For now, though, the less they were paying attention the better.

He opened the door just enough for his body to slip through and once he was inside, he rotated around the door so his back was now pressed to it. He reached back for the handle, slowing down the vibration and noise that the glass door would inevitably make if he let it close on its own. When he heard the soft click of it shutting, he finally let out the breath he was holding.

He was in.

He went to the desk. The computer was on but sleeping—exactly what he had predicted. He peeled back the synthetic skin from his hand and he pressed it to the keyboard, both waking the machine from stasis as well as connecting to it. The firewalls and passcodes were all a joke; easily overridden with a coding of his own design. He gave himself permissions and soon, the extended database and everything the machine had to offer was at his disposal. He typed in the name:

**Price, Andrew**

And then waited.

// Searching…

 **Price, Andrew** – _No Records Found_

He blinked once. Twice. _What?! **WHAT?!** _

_How was there nothing? HOW WAS THERE NOTHING HERE?!_

Connor was so frustrated, he almost picked up the monitor and threw it at the glass walls. This didn’t make any sense. Price had even alluded to allegations being charged to him. They were obviously dropped, but even those records should be _here!_ It should say what those charges were, that they had been dropped, who had pressed them—

…Gavin pressed them. Didn’t he? That would make the most sense.

He cleared Price’s name from the search bar and threw in Gavin’s.

 **Reed, Gavin** – _No Records Found_

_Damn it!_

He had known that Gavin didn’t have a criminal record (felonies would disqualify any chances to become a police officer anyway), but he would have thought that there would have at least been _something_.

_Think, Connor! Think!_

What did he know about Price? Not much, honestly. All he had to go off of were the conversations throughout the day. There had to be something there he could work with. He did not go through all this trouble to come out of the office with _nothing_.

Connor quickly sifted through his memory and replayed the conversations he had been present for.

_“False accusations are nothing to joke about, you know. But I’m willing to forgive you if you simply apologize… I would prefer to have one from everyone involved, but you of all people know that I’m not going to get one from—”_

From… from who? From Hank? While Hank was most certainly not going to apologize to Price either, it didn’t seem to be who the guest lieutenant was talking about.

> There is a third person involved

> Third will not apologize // They don’t want to OR they can’t // ???

_“You might want to take his gun, Hank!”_

_“It isn’t all that… mind-blowing!’’_

> Third will not apologize > They can’t // Third is deceased

> Likely cause of death // suicide by gunshot to the head > Gavin’s police-issued gun

He didn’t know what that had to do with Price aside from the fact that, if true, it was seriously fucked up that the lieutenant was mocking Gavin for it…

 _“It’s… kinda a long and… seriously fucked up story, kid.”_ Hank’s voice played in his head from earlier this morning. _“And it ain’t really my story to tell.”_

It isn’t Hank’s story, but he was involved enough to be affected by it. He had been personally invested too. Enough to get equally upset about the outcome as Gavin had, and offer Gavin protection as if he had done so before. Hank had had his lieutenant position around the time of the incident which means the most likely scenario was that:

> Gavin did not file the ‘false’ accusations // Hank did

 _Why? Why? WHY?_ Gavin was a detective at the time and so was Price. Gavin could have easily pressed charges against an officer in an equal position as him. Why would he go to Hank?

> Conflict of interest // ???

> Gavin wanted to remain anonymous // ???

He killed that last thought almost as soon as it popped up. Gavin didn’t give a shit about remaining anonymous. So chances are it was the first one.

> Conflict of interest // ???

> Gavin was involved in the incident OR Gavin was close to the person involved

Gavin most likely wasn’t involved in whatever had happened so Connor went with the second choice:

> Conflict of interest // Gavin was close to the person involved // _How?_

_“I had forgotten how bat-shit crazy you were… It must run in the family.”_

_“It must run in the family.”_

> Conflict of interest // Gavin went to Hank because third person was family

He was assuming again, but it was all he had to go off of and it was the only thing that really made sense. He turned his attention back to the terminal and erased Gavin’s first name; searching instead for just Reed. He then limited that search to associates that were most likely related to Gavin by limiting the distance to the state of Michigan and combined addresses throughout the years. He tagged each result with their relationship to Gavin (based on ages, addresses, marriage records, etc.), helping with redundancy and confusion. Too many names got annoying quickly.

// Searching…

 **Reed** – 6 Results Found:

 **Reed, Aaron** [Uncle]

 **Reed, Anthony** [Father]

 **Reed, Barbra** [Aunt]

 **Reed, Deborah**  [Mother]

 **Reed, Isabella** [Stepmother]

 **Reed, Melanie** [Sister]

_Was Gavin’s whole family on this list? How common was the surname Reed?_

Connor organized the list in chronological order: arrest records, evidence, court proceedings, recorded confessions—giving him a better understanding of the timeline so he didn’t have to mess around with dates. He played them out like memories:

 **911 Operator:** “ _911, please state your emergency.”_

“ _Hi, I would like to report a domestic—”_

_“My neighbors are shouting at each other really loudly—”_

_“I can hear fighting in the house across my street—”_

_“They’re really going at it. I think there are kids in there too. I hear crying—”_

_“My mom and dad are hitting each other. I have my baby brother with me—”_

Neighbors both across the street and next door, Gavin’s sister, and, on at least two occasions, the mailman—had all called 911 in regards to a domestic disturbance at Gavin Reed’s childhood address. **Deborah** [Mother] and **Anthony Reed** [Father], seemed to take turns every other month on pressing charges on each other and getting arrested.

The officers that had been called to the scene always noted the children. They always checked over Gavin and **Melanie** [Sister] and made sure that there were no signs of abuse or neglect. The same couldn’t be said for what the parents—the grown adults—would do to each other.

Connor was presented with photos of Gavin’s mother. They layered on top of each other like snapshot shutters; one after the other, each photo getting progressively worse by means of abuse on the poor woman. Her skin looked to be too tight for her body, stretched around her skeletally thin frame and almost leather-like. She didn’t look like she could afford to have the ugly bruises that decorated her body, yet with each new photo, she wore them with an apathetic expression and glazed over eyes. The words ‘Meth Head’ flashed up on the photos every now and again, handwritten by whatever cop had taken the case, but Connor dismissed them. He didn’t need notes like that to see the obvious.

The abuse on Gavin’s father, Anthony, was nowhere near what the man had done to his wife, but Connor was gifted with the pictures of the few times that she had managed to win a fight over the ‘Alcoholic.’ Anthony seemed to have lost several of his teeth. As if to answer that question for him, a 911 call overplayed on the photos:

 **Anthony Reed:** _“My crazy bitch wife just hit me in the face with a goddamn lamp!”_

 **Deborah Reed:** _“Shut up, Tony! You fucking prick! You don’ know shit! You cheating fuck!”_

 **Anthony Reed:** _“She still has it! She still has it! Psycho fucking bitch!”_

 **911 Operator:** _“Sir?! Can you take the children to a safe place?”_

The 911 operator tried, but it was hard to hear her over the screaming.

 **Girl _:_** _“MOMMY! STOP!”_

That was a little girl. Melanie Reed, Connor’s programming informed him. There was screaming and crying from a young child in the background.

 **Deborah Reed _:_** _“SHUT THE FUCK UP! SHUT THAT FUCKING BRAT UP!”_

 **_Girl:_ ** _“No! Don’t you touch him! Stay away!”_

 **911 Operator _:_** _“Sir, the police are coming! But I need you to—”_

More of Melanie screaming…

 **911 Operator:** _Sir! Please get the children to a safe place!_

The sound of a door slammed shut and Connor immediately stopped the audio _._ He had to take a minute to collect himself after that. The case report from that call had appeared before him and he quickly skimmed through it, though he wasn’t sure as to why. Obviously, Gavin was okay, even if he had been hit, but the call had caused the android’s chest to clench.

That particular call, Melanie had dragged herself and Gavin into her bedroom and locked the door. Deborah had tried to get in, had actually beaten down most of it with her bare hands, but it had held up long enough until the police could arrive and arrest her.

She had been high out of her mind. Her urinary test had come back with a laundry list of drugs and she had to spend a year and a half in jail for the assault on her husband.

Connor felt the knot in his chest tighten but he kept the montage going.

The 911 domestic disturbance calls didn’t let up until Gavin was about nine. Melanie’s address was no longer at the residence and her school records told the reason why. Melanie had graduated high school and moved on to college. Her employment records show she had worked at two jobs during school and three during the summer. The girl had worked her ass off to make sure she got out of that house and could afford to further her education. The downside was that she had to leave Gavin.

A woman named Isabella Dossier **[note:** // **name change: Isabella Reed** [Stepmother] **]** had moved in four months after Melanie’s departure. Isabella was Anthony Reed’s girlfriend. Anthony Reed, Gavin’s father who was still married to Deborah Reed—all three of them lived in the same house…

The 911 calls changed from domestic violence to overdoses and suicide attempts on his mother’s part. When Gavin was ten years old, Deborah finally succeeded. She had gone into the bathroom and slit her wrists; bled out until her cheating husband found her and called it into the police.

_“My wife’s dead. Gone and offed herself in my bathtub. Can you come and get her? I need to take a shower and she made such a fucking mess!”_

It was the most apathetic 911 call Connor had ever heard in his life. He wondered if that was how Gavin was told his mother was dead…

Not even a week after Deborah’s suicide, Anthony married Isabella. That marriage lasted until Anthony Reed had sold drugs to an undercover police officer, granting police a warrant to search the house and arrest both of the adults for possession and distribution of a multitude of narcotics. Gavin had been sent to live at a relative’s house— **Aaron Reed** [Uncle] and **Barbra Reed** [Aunt]—until social services could decide on what to do with him.

Gavin’s uncle, his father’s brother, lived in an upscale, middle-class neighborhood: a far improvement to what Gavin had been living in up until this point in his life. However, he didn’t last six months before a neighbor called 911 on his behalf after Gavin, covered in bruises, blood, and tears had banged on her door at two o’ clock in the morning, begging to be let in.

 **Reed, Aaron**  
Born: August 19, 1973 // _Unemployed [Incarcerated]  
_ Criminal Record: Aggravated Assault on a Minor, Assault with a Deadly Weapon on a Minor, Multiple Class Felonies of Child Abuse, Child Endangerment, Attempted Sexual Exploitation of a Child, Attempted Buying and Selling of a Child

Connor felt sick. The feeling only worsened at the aftermath photos that he was presented with.

The boy in the pictures looked nothing like Gavin, only it was definitely him.

The scar on his nose was fresh: red, inflamed, bleeding. For whatever reason, that was the first thing Connor noticed. He looked no older than nine, but the records claimed he was twelve. He was severely underweight, almost skeletal. The health tests indicated levels of malnourishment and dehydration that were extremely concerning. His right arm was in a sling, broken, but the left was extended to show the deep slashes and cuts and bruises that decorated his frame. The whole left side of Reed’s face was swollen in a blend of ugly colors; a layer of old and new bruises stacked on top of one another…

Connor had had enough. This had nothing to do with what he had originally come in here for. This had nothing to do with Price. While it certainly gave him a different perspective on Gavin, he did not want to know any more details about the detective’s life.

He tried to pull his hand away, ready to disconnect from the computer but something interrupted the program and made itself a priority.

// Preparing Reconstruction…

 _What? Why?_ He didn’t authorize that. _A reconstruction of what?_

That question morbidly answered itself in the form of three wire frames, two adults and one child; all three materializing in his analysis matrix. Fowler’s office had become a stage to whatever cruel software error Connor was currently experiencing. The office itself gained new furniture to better set the scene...

Connor tugged at his hand, but couldn’t pull away from the computer. It wasn’t technically ‘safe’ to disconnect this way but the alternative seemed worse than the potential corruption or loss of data. He glanced back at the reconstruct before him, a sense of dread washed through his frame and caused his chest to clench tight.

Connor’s processor was recreating the events that had caused Gavin to look like he did in the picture. He didn’t want to see this but he couldn’t pull away. He couldn’t shut it off.

The smaller figurine, the one that was representing a twelve-year-old Gavin, was backing away from the menacing male adult: his uncle. The female, his aunt, was holding up something – a video camera, his software was quick to provide, having obtained the answer from the case report.

_STOP!_

It didn’t stop. The image of Gavin turned to run, but the man managed to snatch him by the hair and yank him to the floor. The reconstruct outline whipped back, the back of his head cracking against the carpet in Fowler’s office and Connor’s programming flashed with the injury information:

> Victim suffered minor concussion after temporary blackout

And Gavin did blackout. According to the report, he had been knocked unconscious by that blow. His vision cut to the video of it. The one Gavin’s aunt had been recording in hopes of… of…

> Attempted Sexual Exploitation of a Child, Attempted Buying and Selling of a Child

Gavin was too thin in the video. Too thin and too pale and too _tiny—_ a child! A defenseless child who had just been thrown to the floor and knocked unconscious by an adult. The uncle twisted to look into the camera with a cruel amusement in his eyes and smile on his face, laughing at a joke his wife had just made before he grabbed the boy by the ankle and dragged him towards a bed. Gavin came-to as his uncle was trying to take off his shirt…

> Suspect suffered lacerations on face

Because Gavin had started fighting for his life. The twelve-year-old had reached up with clawed hands, shrieking in fear and determination. He had gripped at his uncle’s temple and pulled down, easily drawing blood and blinding the man who had thrown himself back and away from Gavin with a pained yelp. The camera grew shaky as the aunt screamed for her husband. It got thrown to the floor and quickly became useless, so Connor’s vision snapped back to the models.

 _STOP! I don’t want to see this!_ He couldn’t shut the command off. He couldn’t make it stop! If he turned away from the playout, his mind would just feed him with something else. Why was it doing this to him?!

His processor was happy to supply an answer to that too:

> Ironic process theory, ironic rebound, or the 'white bear problem.' The psychological theory where trying to deliberately suppress certain thoughts makes them more likely to surface (ie:  _Do not think of white bears_ or _do not think of elephants_ or _do not think of the childhood abuse your coworker had endured)_

Despite having a concussion, Gavin had managed to make it to his feet. He was stumbling, though, and that had been what got him caught after his aunt dove after his fleeing form. The uncle, infuriated, had grabbed onto a weapon—

> Aggravated Assault on a Minor, Assault with a Deadly Weapon on a Minor

> Weapon: Golf club

—and then bashed it against Gavin’s back. Connor’s reconstruct didn’t have audio, but the aunt’s video camera was still playing, so Connor could hear the screams…

Connor finally yanked his hand away from the computer; not even disconnecting from it properly. The effect was disorienting and knocked him off his feet. He frantically kicked himself further away from the terminal, hyperventilating even though he didn’t need to breathe. The dark office was lit with a red light—his LED, burning from his right temple.

He had to get out of here. He had to leave. He had to leave _now!_

He scrambled to his feet but his legs were rubber and he fell back to the floor as if someone had ripped the carpet out from under him. A sob burst from his throat, but he shook his head to try and clear it. When he looked up, he saw a twelve-year-old Gavin in the same position as him. Face down, sobbing, body jerking up as he got beat with an invisible object—

> Not invisible // A golf club

_No! Stop! Stop! Gavin was fine! Gavin was outside! Gavin worked with the DPD!_

> Victim suffered six broken ribs, dislocated shoulder, broken arm, multiple bruises on back and sides

But the image of Gavin in front of him, the image taken from the case files and evidence he had merged with his own mind, was not fine. Was not okay. The Gavin in front of him was bleeding and crying and he could _hear the screaming coming from him_ that just. wouldn’t. _STOP!_

Connor ignored the reenactment and with his last thread of clarity, frantically scrambled to Fowler’s door. When he reached for the handle, a wire model ran past him, smashing through the glass walls of the office. It broke nothing because it wasn’t real. _It wasn’t real!_

But it had been real. It had been real for Gavin…

Gavin had escaped his relatives by running straight through a sliding glass door. The EMTs had to pull out several shards of glass from his body when they arrived—

> Victim suffered multiple lacerations on arms, legs, stomach, and face

The scar on Gavin’s nose, fresh and red and bleeding flashed through Connor’s mind again.

Connor threw the office door open and dashed down the stairs, not even trying to be subtle. He didn’t care who saw him. He didn’t care who questioned him. He just didn’t care.

The last two steps, he slipped but managed to snatch onto the railing to steady himself before his back hit the stairs. He pulled himself back to his feet and whipped around the corner of Fowler’s office; heading down the hallway towards evidence, but the sight made him sick. He didn’t want to think about evidence. He has had his full share of it for a long while…

His programming clearly didn't care. Gavin’s wire model was hysterically banging on the door to the archives. His right arm, the broken one, hung limply at his side. Gavin had done that at twelve-years-old. Ran down the street to his neighbor’s house with glass embedded in his tiny body; arm broken after being beaten by his guardian. Crying and sobbing and begging for help—

Connor darted right, toward the gap in-between Fowler’s office and the holding cells. He made it halfway before his legs gave out and refused to cooperate any longer. He crashed on the tile and collapsed to all fours, panting like a panicked dog. A hand jumped up to his mouth to muffle out a broken sob and when he squeezed his eyes shut, tears slipped out of them.

He rolled over into a sitting position and slid on the tile until his back was resting against the metal cabinets that were lined along the wall. He pulled his legs in and wrapped his free arm around them, trapping them and keeping them close. He wanted them close. He wanted to be small, so small. He felt so exposed.

 _Empathy._ Empathy, but it wasn’t. Connor was not a sensitive person. He had been created and designed to be able to handle police work and police work got ugly. He could handle ugly. He could normally handle a case like this.

This was so different, though. The victim was someone he knew. Someone he worked with on a daily basis. Someone who teased and threw out insults and wisecrack remarks and demanded coffee—as if he hadn’t been beaten by a golf club at one point in his life. As if he hadn’t had to fight a man three times his size to save himself from being molested. As if he hadn’t had to run through a sliding glass door to save his life because he didn’t have time to open it—

“Connor?!”

Connor had no idea who had called out his name. He had no idea who had run over and collapsed to the ground and was grabbing onto his arms. He had no idea who was trying to get him to look into their face. The android was shaking his head, eyes squeezed tight.

“It won’t stop! It won’t stop! I can’t get it to stop!” he sobbed as if the stranger could help him make it because he sure as hell couldn’t do it himself. None of his overrides would allow him to kill the program and he felt nauseous and sick. He wanted to claw out his eyes. He wanted to claw out his stomach. The stranger must have known he wanted to claw out _something_ because they grabbed onto his wrists and refused to let them go.

The stranger sounded male and human. Connor didn’t know what to think about that. There were a lot of people that had offered him help over the course of today and he wasn’t sure whose face he wanted to see when he opened his eyes. He let out another sob and the man began to comfort him with sweet words and soft tones—none of which were comprehendible on Connor’s part who had currently shut out most of the world.

The android coiled in on himself, trying to make himself smaller; trying to make the stranger go away and let him go while at the same time trying to get the man to stay and hold him tighter. He knew that made no sense and he didn’t care. He just needed this to stop.

He didn’t need to run a diagnostic scan to know his stress levels were way too high.

The stranger had moved the android’s wrists together and then gripped them both with only one of his meaty hands, using his free one to reach up and feel Connor’s temple. He placed his palm right over the blood-red LED before pulling away and flipping his hand over to feel the android’s forehead.

He was checking to see if Connor was overheating (which he most definitely was) but that wasn’t the best way to check for that on an android. As if reading Connor’s mind, the hand on his forehead slid down to the base of his neck.

Connor tried to push himself back and away, but he only managed to bang into the metal cabinets, creating a noise that startled him into opening his eyes. His teary gaze was fixed down the hall in front of the archive room. The real door was closed, but his construct had created an open version and he saw Gavin’s frantic model talking to the neighbor that had finally answered the door.

Both wire-frames and the model of the door dissipated; _finally_ killing the horrendous video feed that had played on for far too long, but information was still being fed to him:

> Child’s sister had been contacted // Melanie Reed had agreed to watch child after hospital release until legal guardianship could be established

A whine turned sob suddenly burst from Connor’s throat and he squeezed his eyes shut as the tears started up again. The stranger in front of him separated Connor's wrists and the android went to fist at the fabric of his pants, but the man wouldn’t let him.

Instead, one of Connor’s hands was being pried open. His fingers were unraveled until they were completely stretched out, exposing the android's palm that was facing up toward the ceiling. Connor felt the human stranger press his own palm face down into the android's...

 _Oh._ Not a stranger. Not a stranger at all.

Connor finally broke, leaning forward and nearly crashing into the older man who wrapped his arms around the android in a tight embrace and rubbed a soothing hand up and down his back.

The last bit of information that flashed in Connor’s processor before his programming finally, _finally_ showed him mercy was:

 **Reed, Melanie**  
Born: May 22, 1993 // _Employer unavailable_  
Criminal Record: None*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was easily the longest and hardest chapter for me to write! Rough, I know, but I seriously hope this wasn't too confusing. I wanted to tell Gavin's backstory in a semi-unique way without having someone just explain it or tell it through flashbacks. Let me know what you thought and I'm sorry if I lost you at any point in time...
> 
> That being said! Thank you SO much for all the love, you guys! I can't even begin to tell you how excited I get when I get to hear from you! You're all the absolute best!
> 
> As a side note, a wonderful reader has drawn some amazing fanart of Andrew Price for me! They also have a very unique style and some amazing work that I am shamelessly promoting for them! Please check out their twitter feed and share the love with me: https://twitter.com/DankHank360
> 
> And as always, I apologize for any and all grammatical errors, spelling mistakes, or overall confusion you may have stumbled upon thus far. Thank you for reading!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When he thinks no one’s looking (and even when he knows that they are).

Haley had sat down on the curb but hadn't said anything, and Gavin didn’t provide an icebreaker to help start a conversation, so the two of them were currently sitting in an awkward silence. It was clearly making Haley restless; she didn’t seem to know what to do with her legs. She kept crossing and uncrossing them only to stretch them out just to pull them back in before choosing to cross them again.

Gavin pretended not to notice. 

He didn't know why he made her so nervous but he kept his expression blank and attention forward until she got herself situated. In the back of his mind, he wondered if androids could even _get_ comfortable and if they _couldn’t_ then that meant that Haley was going to be fidgeting beside him for-fucking-ever and— _Good God!_ That thought was enough to warrant another cigarette.

He had already pocketed his pack (having already smoked two while reminiscing in enough childhood trauma to reconsider his sobriety) and had every intention of just going back inside before Haley showed up. Now, leaving felt like too much of a dick move, but her constant fidgeting was starting to drive him nuts.

He finally caved to the idea after watching her readjust herself for what had to be the tenth time. He pulled his pack and lighter out from his jacket pocket and thumbed open the lid before fishing out a cigarette and popping it in his mouth. Haley’s attention snapped over at the sound of his clicking lighter.

“Oh,” she started. Her LED behind her bangs was a steady yellow with the occasional flash of red. He looked over at her, an eyebrow raised in question. “I um… I was under the impression that you…” She stopped herself and shook her head before restarting. “I thought you quit.”

“I was trying to,” he said, the cigarette bouncing between his lips as he spoke. He killed the flame on his lighter and pocketed it along with the pack all while sucking on the filter. He blew the smoke out away from her face. “I was doing pretty good, too.”

“Smoking is the leading cause of lung cancer amongst adult humans,” she informed, speaking as if she had just read it off of the box or in a textbook. Her sole attention was locked on the stick in his mouth. Gavin snorted in amusement.

“Yeah, I got the memo, thanks.”

“Lung cancer could kill you.”

“Only if I’m lucky,” he said with a dry laugh. Haley didn’t seem to appreciate the joke. Her LED had gone full crimson and her posture grew stiff.

After a long and tense moment, she finally said, “I think you should quit.”

“Quitting is hard,” Gavin said, sounding bored. “Besides, it helps with stress.”

“Talking can help with stress too, you know?” Her voice was soft and she sounded hesitant. Almost as if she was testing to see what his reaction would be to that suggestion.

If he were his normal self, he probably would have challenged her. He would have made some snide remark, brushed her off, given her a real reason to be so standoffish around him… But he wasn’t his normal self. He was tired; mentally and physically drained of his anger and personality and now he was just an apathetic, lonely mess sitting outside, on the curb beside his police precinct. It was making him want to be painfully honest.

“I have no one to talk to,” he said, his tone sounding as exhausted and hollow as he felt.

Haley frowned. Her LED flashing red for two blinks again before settling back on yellow.

“That’s not true,” she said, rather defiantly too which made Gavin glance over at her again. She turned away from his gaze, a light blush on her cheeks. “I mean… That’s not… I’m here. You can talk to me.”

He was suddenly struck with a surge of cynicism; an overwhelmingly strong desire to tell her things about himself that would make that LED on her head stay red. But just as he turned to her and opened his mouth to spew angry truths, she cut him off.

“Or, I could call Tina for you. If you want.”

Gavin’s eyebrows pulled down. His mouth still hung open as he gaped in confusion.

“Why Tina?” he asked. His tone held more bite to it than necessary as the sadistic feeling hadn’t completely died. Haley managed to kill it off entirely when she gave him a sweet, earnest smile.

“She’s your girlfriend, isn’t she? I know you would much rather talk to her than me.”

Gavin reeled back in surprise.

“What? Tina’s not my girlfriend! Who told you that?”

Haley blinked and shrugged, looking a little confused herself.

“I just thought… well, you always seem so happy whenever you’re around her. I thought you two might be a thing,” Haley said, a little sheepishly.

“Yeah, no,” he said with a snort. “We’re not.”

“Do you have a girlfriend?” she asked, tilting her head in curiosity.

“Why? You offering?” he asked and then immediately turned away, his face flushed red. It was his automatic, dickhead response whenever anyone asked him that question and he hadn’t actually meant to say it to Haley. Luckily, she didn’t catch his embarrassment as she was busy dealing with her own. Her cheeks had darkened considerably and she was no longer looking at him.

“N-No—Not that you’re not—Or that I wouldn’t… I was just…”

Gavin recovered first, her reaction making it surprisingly easy to do so. He laughed and shook his head, choosing to save her from the awkwardness that he had created.

“No. I don’t have a girlfriend,” he said, and then because he couldn’t help himself he added with a sly grin, “but my computer tells me _all the time_ that there are hot single women in my area, so it’s not like they’re not available.”

Haley blinked and glanced over, staring at him with a confused expression before realization hit. Blue blood rushed to her cheeks, darkening her face that she hid with her hands.

“Oh my God, _Gavin!_ ” she practically shrieked. The action was so very human and Gavin briefly forgot he was talking to an android. He couldn’t help the laugh that burst from his throat.

“I’m fucking with you,” he said, the amusement still in his expression and a smile on his face. When she pulled her hands away, she playfully shoved his arm, causing him to laugh again. Her LED was now spinning blue, turning the color for the first time since she sat down.

“Why do you still have that?” he asked, pointing to his temple. Haley looked up, blinking in surprise and confusion at the sudden change in tone. “I mean, if that’s not like… a dick-ish thing to ask?”

“No, it’s not,” she said as she reached up to circle the light with her finger. “It’s kind of hard to explain, though.”

“I thought deviants normally pried ‘em out?”

“That was before,” she said, a sad smile forming on her lips. “We needed to blend in and hide. Otherwise, we’d be taken and sent to the recycle camps.”

Gavin had to be making a weird face at the mention of that because Haley quickly shook her head in dismissal.

“Oh, Heather and I didn’t go! We kinda lucked out, actually,” she said. “When the order came in for the recall, Captain Fowler took all the station androids and locked them in storage instead.”

Gavin remembered that. He had been one of the officers Fowler had asked to send all the station androids to that little closet. Fowler’s intentions at the time had been more monetary than they were sympathetic, though. The Captain didn’t see the point in turning over machines that worked perfectly well and machines that were not cheap to replace. His plan was to lock them in storage until the revolution ended and take them back out once things went back to normal. CyberLife had made it clear they had every intention to continue releasing androids once the deviancy problem was fixed. No one had been prepared for the outcome that had actually occurred.

Regardless, Fowler had inevitably saved all of the station’s androids, including Heather and Haley. Not all of them came back after the revolution (and not all of the androids that worked in the police station now had originated from there), but the ones that had returned certainly surprised Fowler with their expressive gratitude.  

“It would make you look more human,” Gavin said, returning to the original topic of Haley’s LED. “If you took it out, I mean. No one would ever know you’re an android.”

He knew he sure as hell couldn’t tell the difference.

“But we’re not human,” Haley said, her tone was soft again. “And we don’t care to look the part. I’m not ashamed to be an android.” She hesitantly brought her hand to her neck that was bare of synthetic skin, rubbing at the gun-metal gray that covered it instead. “Although, admittedly, I’ve been back and forth about fixing this.”

“If you’re not ashamed to be an android, why would your neck be any different than a light on your head?”

“Gray doesn’t go with every color I might want to wear,” she answered, her tone so matter-of-fact that Gavin couldn’t help but laugh.

“Such a girl thing to say,” he said with a grin while shaking his head in amusement. He looked down at the cigarette in his hand, just now realizing he smoked next-to-nothing of it. It was already down to the head of the filter, dead and useless. The cherry had grown too large to support itself and had dropped down on the edge of the curb in a heap of ash.

 _What a waste_ , he thought to himself. Although, he strangely wasn’t craving tobacco anymore. He flicked the filter into the street and turned back to Haley.

“Android pride, then?” Gavin asked. Haley thought about it, her eyes drifting skyward.

“I don’t know if it’s pride, exactly,” she started and Gavin couldn’t help but wonder if she even knew what pride felt like. “I think it is just… what it is. I’m an android. I have an LED. It’s a part of me. I see no reason in removing it.”

“So… what would be a rude question to ask an android?” Gavin looked over and gave her a mischievous grin.

“What was an android’s primary purpose before the revolution,” Haley said. “You know what Heather and I did. It’s not a big deal for us, but not all androids are… proud of what they had been programmed or ordered to do.” She took a moment to think before she added, “I think asking an android how they deviated might also be considered offensive.”

“Oh?” Gavin asked in exaggerated curiosity, his tone was borderline sarcastic as if his next question wasn’t going to be just that. Haley snorted and playfully rolled her eyes.

“You're such an ass." The laughter in her tone dispelled any offense taken. "An android in the department had gone deviant a while ago,” she explained. “He was a police model, like me, but he didn’t know about Jericho and he didn’t want to give away he was sentient because… well… CyberLife had just sent Connor to the department. I guess he was too scared to try anything.”

“This guy turned you deviant?” Gavin asked, raising an eyebrow. Haley nodded.

“He turned us all deviant,” she said. “I think he wanted someone to talk to. Deviancy brings boredom with it and he had no idea how long we were going to be locked in that closet.”

“He still here?” Gavin asked. “I mean, did he come back after you guys got your work permits and shit?”

Haley shook her head.

“No, I haven’t seen him since. I don’t think he enjoyed being a police officer very much.”

Gavin snorted.

“Yeah, I know the feeling,” he mumbled and looked down at his badge that he still hadn’t clipped back onto his belt. He picked it up and thumbed at the gold again. Haley silently watched him, leaning forward and tilting her head, seemingly to both gauge his expression while expressing her curiosity.

“What about you?” she asked.

“Hm?”

“What made you want to be a police officer?”

Gavin didn’t answer. Instead, he held his gaze on the golden shield. Haley waited patiently, not once looking away from his face.

“What made you want to be a secretary?” he finally said, glancing over at her with a raised eyebrow in silent challenge. Haley smirked, accepting it and not once acknowledging the obvious deflect.

“Police work didn’t interest me after the revolution,” she explained with a shrug. “To be honest, it never really did. Police androids were always issued such _boring_ cases. Patrols, parking tickets, drunks, traffic violations… It was all just busy work, you know?”

Gavin tilted his head.

“Yeah, but you could be like… an official one now,” he said with a shrug. “Like Connor.”

Haley smiled and tucked her hair behind her ear, fully exposing her blue LED.

“I got a lot of shit being a police android _before_ I deviated,” Haley said. “I don’t even want to know the comments and harassment that would be thrown my way now. Besides, Connor has Hank and Hank likes him. Not all the officers here are open to the idea of having an android for a partner.”

“Eh,” Gavin said with a shrug before leaning back to reattach his badge to his hip. When he straightened back up he let out a long sigh. “I think you’d be surprised.”

Haley blinked at that but didn’t say anything and Gavin pretended not to notice the smile that started twitching at the edge of her lips. Instead, he let out a loud and exaggerated groan before dragging his hand down his face.

“I don’t want to go back to work but I’ve been out here for-fucking-ever,” he said, mostly to himself. Haley giggled and nodded in understanding.

“Tell me about it. You don’t have to deal with the walk-ins, though. I feel for the poor officers I send them too sometimes.”

Gavin groaned again but this time there was a smile on his face.

“Damn, yeah, I don’t miss that shit _at all!_ ” he said. “Fuck, if I had to deal with pedestrian complaints again, I’d probably want to be a fucking secretary too.”

Haley burst into laughter, shaking her head in amusement. The more she warmed up to him, the more her speech pattern seemed to change. She was growing friendlier, less professional, less… robotic.

The thought was odd to him. He hadn't put much thought in the debate of whether or not androids were living beings because, honestly, he didn’t care. They weren’t a threat to his job security any longer as they asked for equal rights and equal pay (which kept them equal to humans in regards to both, so hiring an android was not cheaper than hiring a human). That had truly been his only beef with them. He may have been a little afraid of an uprising at the beginning, his fear stemming from an android revolution that sci-fi and horror movies portrayed them to be, but after all the peaceful protests real androids participated in, the idea of computers taking over humanity just seemed too silly now.

Another sad reality was that in the two years after the revolution, Gavin had never _truly_ had a conversation with a deviant android. Especially not a conversation long enough to develop an opinion on the ‘are they alive’ debate that, to this day, was still the center of many arguments.

“You’re pretty cool, Haley,” Gavin said, surprising even himself with the sudden admittance. “But I gotta head back inside. Hank is waiting for me.”

He quickly stood and headed towards the front of the building.

“Gavin, wait,” Haley called, standing to her feet and jogging after him even though he stopped to wait for her. She tucked her long bangs behind her ear again and held out her free hand.

“Let me see your phone.”

He gave her an incredulous look but pulled it out of his pocket and handed it over. The skin on her hand pulled back as she accepted it.

A soft glow illuminated on the phone’s screen under her fingertips and her LED started blinking yellow. Then, all at once, the light show stopped; on both the phone and Haley’s head. The synthetic skin crawled its way back to her fingertips.

“There.”

Gavin gave it a suspicious look as he took it back from her.

“So… what? Is it going to go off and start a phone revolution now or something?” he asked, earning himself a playful scoff and a smack on the arm.

“I gave you my contact number, dork!”

“Oh,” Gavin said with a blink. His expression turned sly. “You know, if you wanted my number, you coulda just—ah!”

She smacked him again causing the detective to flinch away with a snicker.

“That’s not why I gave it to you!” she said. “If you ever need to talk or vent or just… I don’t know, need someone to bitch to…” She trailed off with a shrug. “I’ll always answer. The phone’s kinda in my head so it’s a little hard to miss a call.”

Gavin snorted and grinned.

“That sounds annoying as fuck.” He bobbed his head in the direction of the front door, silently telling her he was going that way before actually doing so. She got the hint and fell in step right beside him.

“It’s not so bad,” Haley said with a smile.

“Oh? Really? Okay, I’ll be sure to text you the entire alphabet in the middle of the night and then I want you to say, _‘eh, it’s not so bad!’._ ” He mimicked her shrug and raised the pitch of his voice to impersonate her. Haley burst into giggles, a hand over her mouth to try to conceal them and failing miserably.

They had reached the front door. Gavin reached for the handle, pulled the door open, and then pressed his back to it, holding it open for Haley.

“One letter at a time too!” Gavin added as she passed him. He unlocked his phone and searched through the contacts to find her newly added name. “I’ll even look up other languages! So it can be like… all educational and shit.”

“Looking forward to it, Reed,” she said with a smirk. She walked into the lobby and then rose to her toes, clearly searching for Heather.

“Fowler?” Gavin suddenly asked, eyebrows pinching together in confusion.

“Hm?” Haley turned back around to face him.

“Your name,” Gavin clarified, holding up his phone and showing her the screen. “You put it as Haley Fowler.”

“Oh!” She ducked away to hide her face and shyly rubbed her arm. “I… yeah. I asked him a while ago if I could use it. We—androids, I mean… we don’t exactly have our own, you know?”

“Families or last names?” Gavin asked will putting his phone in his pocket.

“Both,” Haley said, dropping her gaze to the floor. Her LED started spinning yellow. For some reason, it was making Gavin uncomfortable. Yellow was such an ugly color. So was red.

At least they were when they were on Haley’s head.

“It’s not like it actually… _means_ anything,” Haley said, clearly mistaking his silence and the look of distaste he was making for something else. He didn’t know why she felt the need to defend herself against this. He hadn’t said anything negative about it and it obviously meant something to her, regardless of how much she was trying to downplay it.

“You’re right,” Gavin said, monotone. She looked up at him, a hurt expression flashed across her features. Her LED was behind her bangs, but he could swear he saw it flicker red for a few blinks.

“Names don’t mean shit,” he added, pretending he didn’t notice how much that first comment had so clearly stabbed her right in her synthetic heart. He gave her a lopsided grin. “The closest people to family I’ve ever had don’t share my name either.”

With one exception, of course, but that thought was going to drag him back down memory lane again and he had just turned off that road. Besides, the comment was enough to do the trick. Haley’s temple was shining blue once more as were her cheeks.

“Thanks, Gavin,” she said, just above a whisper. Gavin rolled his eyes and gave an over-exaggerated groan.

“God, don’t get all mushy on me. _Fuck!”_ he said, sounding annoyed but still holding a smile. “The number one rule of having emotions is you don’t express them. Ever!”

“That doesn’t sound right,” Haley said with a giggle. She followed him through the lobby and towards the gate so she could open it for him. The skin on her arm had already receded down to her elbow.

“No, fuck you! I know what I’m talking about, alright?” Gavin said, tone still playful. He looked out into the hall and his smile instantly dropped. _“What the fuck?!”_

Haley's eyebrows pulled together in confusion before she followed his gaze down the hall.

It was Heather. She had stumbled out of the breakroom on unstable feet before plunging to the floor in a dive. Her arms scratched helplessly at the tile as if she was trying to swim or crawl until regaining enough of her bearings to flip herself over and kick herself away from whatever she felt was threatening her.

Gavin reacted before Haley did, actually hurtling over the gate and shoving past the glass door to race down the hall. He made it halfway to her before two men came barreling out of the breakroom and dropped to their knees at Heather’s side.

“ _HEY!_ ” Gavin shouted, the volume of his voice easily carried down the hall. He slowed to a jog and threw his arms out to his side. “What the fuck are you doing?!”

The two men looked up at the same time and their shocked expressions instantly pissed Gavin off. He didn’t know them by name but both men had been in the meeting room during Hank’s morning meeting—the IT crew from Southeast if his memory served correctly.

The Pakistani man, the one who had asked all those annoying questions about androids and had been warned by Hank not to harass them, frantically tried to answer Gavin.

“We don’t know! We don’t know what happened! One minute she was talking to us just fine and the next she was on the floor!”

Gavin might have bought it if this guy hadn’t made such a spectacle about being an android enthusiast. The comment from the man’s colleague came back to Gavin’s mind, crystal clear, bringing one of the men's names with it:

_‘Leave it to Hazeem to get a robot hard-on.’_

“How about you back the fuck up and let her tell me what happened?!” Gavin said, already wedging himself in-between Heather and the two, both of whom had jumped to their feet at Gavin's arrival.

Heather looked worse up close. Tears were streaming down her eyes; both of which were darkened to a blinding blue. The sobs that wracked her throat we're distorted and staticky. When she moved, her joints made a mechanical whirling sound as if she was overworking every one of her systems.

Haley had caught up and was next to her friend, but it was clear that she didn't know what to do. Her hands hovered over Heather before finally committing to an actual hug only for Heather to shriek and shove Haley away at the contact. The injured android slapped at the air, aimlessly hoping to hit whoever was touching her. Her sobs grew louder the longer she flailed. 

Gavin Reed, as a member of law enforcement and more specifically a detective, had seen many different scenes that he had grown emotionally immune to. It was rare, at a crime scene, for him to feel… _anything,_ really. It had simply become a job at this point.

His only exceptions were sexual assault cases.

There were many reasons why he was bothered by them; generally taking those type of cases a lot more personally than he did other crimes. It was why, when called to them, he showed little sympathy for the assailant and could even make such dark and inappropriate jokes whenever an attacker had become a victim too…

_‘Just some pervert who, uh… got more action than he could handle!’_

There wasn’t enough evidence to support the theory that something like that had happened to Heather. But that comment… That _fucking_ comment!

_‘Leave it to Hazeem to get a robot hard-on.’_

“She won’t be able to tell you. She can’t talk,” the other technician said.

“And why the fuck can’t she talk?” Gavin demanded. His patience was growing thinner by the second and it was showing. “Better yet, how do you fucking know that she can’t?! What did you assholes do?!”

Hazeem was brave enough to speak up this time, although his tone was bordering hysterical.

“Nothing, sir! Please! We would _never_ —”

“NO, DON’T TOUCH HER!” The other man suddenly shouted. He darted around Gavin and dove after Haley, snatching onto her wrist. The former police android’s arm was white, the skin having been pulled away as she was clearly about to interface with Heather in hopes of calming her down.

He had succeeded in stopping Haley from connecting to her friend, but the maneuver had caused the technician to land right in Heather’s lap and he was currently stretched across her legs. The secretary did not respond well to that. She shrieked at the contact in her broken voice and started hitting and thrashing to get the unknown body off of her.

Gavin grabbed onto the man’s loose ponytail and yanked him off and away from the two androids with a little more force than necessary. The man yelped in pain and then again when he fell to the floor after an added shove from Gavin.

“Get the fuck away from them!” the detective hissed in anger.

“Alan!” Hazeem shrieked and hurried to help his friend up. Alan recovered quickly, ignoring both Hazeem and Gavin; fully focused on Haley.

“Don’t connect with her! It might spread to you too!” he said as quickly as he could. Gavin growled in irritation.

“What’s going to spread to her? What did you do?!”

Alan’s attention snapped to Gavin.

“Nothing! We didn’t do anything, I swear. But we might know what’s happening. If we could just take a look at—”

“ _Fuck_ no!” Gavin snapped, cutting him off. “You ain’t looking at shit! You’re going to stay right the fuck there before I throw the both of you in the holding cells!”

Hazeem made a strange whining noise that he tried to mute by hiding behind his hands and Alan promptly shut his mouth. Satisfied that the two were done talking, Gavin made his way around Heather, careful not to touch her, and crouched down next to Haley.

“Do you know what’s happening?” he asked her, his tone considerably softer than when he was talking to Hazeem and Alan. Haley shook her head.

“I don’t know. I might be able to run a diagnostic if I could…” Her gaze dropped down to her hand which was still white and exposed. “But I don’t know what to do.”

She looked to him as if he had an answer for her.

“Don’t connect with her, alright? We’ll figure this out. I promise.” He looked over at Heather and frowned. The secretary had curled into a fetal position. Her side was pressed firmly against the only wall she could find (which just happened to be the foundation of Fowler’s office). She was trembling badly and her frame was hitching in a way that suggested she was hyperventilating.

Gavin didn’t think androids could do that. It was unnerving.

“Hey… Heather,” Gavin started, slowly crawling towards her. He reached out hesitantly and prepared himself for a blow should she decide to strike at him. He was fairly certain he could contain her if that were to happen. Despite what popular anti-android propaganda would like to have the public think, there were very few models out there that could overpower a fit, human male.

“She can’t hear you, either,” Alan said, suddenly cutting in. Gavin looked up at him with a glare.

“Now how would you know that?” Gavin said in a tone that was more accusatory than questioning.

Hazeem looked generally upset and made another high-pitched wail.

“Because we’ve seen it before,” Alan explained. “It used to happen all the time in our precinct! We could never find the cause of it but— _FUCK!_ The symptoms are all the same.”

“Symptoms? What symptoms?” Gavin demanded. He was ignoring Hazeem entirely. Alan seemed to be the only one of the two who was capable of talking without claming up or bursting into tears.

Alan fumbled for thoughts and an explanation.

“The deactivation of most motor functions including gyroscope, optics, voice box, audial output uh... uh—memory loss and-and loss of consciousness depending on how bad the pulse was that they got hit with.”

“What _pulse_?” Gavin asked with a growl. It must have been extremely intimidating because Hazeem suddenly darted behind his friend as if Alan’s scrawny ass could protect him from Gavin’s wrath. Under normal circumstances, Gavin might have found it amusing but he was far too pissed to find any humor in it.

“We… we don’t know,” Alan said with a sheepish shrug. “We don’t even know if that’s what it is, but it’s the only thing that makes sense. We could never find out what caused it, but the closest we could come to was an EMP: an electromagnetic pulse. An interference that disrupts or damages electrical equipment. It will shut off anything within its range. Androids don’t run entirely on electricity, but some of their biocomponents rely on it; especially in their processors. Until they reboot, certain features are going to be unavailable to them.”

Gavin fought to keep his composure.

“This has happened before?” he asked through gritted teeth. “And you two hadn’t felt the need to mention it until now?”

At that, they both cringed and it was Hazeem who actually spoke up next, albeit softly.

“We thought it was just a Southeast problem,” he said. “It doesn’t make any sense for it to have happened here.”

“Yeah, well,” Gavin waved a hand at Heather. “It fucking did. So, thanks for the heads-up, douchebags.”

Both men tensed and dropped their gaze to the floor, clearly ashamed or guilty. Gavin had very little sympathy for either one of them.

“So why can’t I touch her?” Haley interrupted, her voice sounded almost frightened. “You said I couldn’t connect with her but if it was an EMP that did this, it wouldn’t affect me if we interfaced.”

“We don’t know if that’s what it was,” Alan explained, his eyes shifted between Haley and Gavin. As if Gavin were going to strike at him the second he looked away. “That was just the conclusion we came to given what gets disabled on an android whenever it happens, but it could also be a virus or something worse.” He gave a half-hearted shrug. “We... we don’t know.”

Gavin groaned in annoyance and rolled his eyes. Regardless of Southeast’s idiocy, Gavin was not going to leave Heather like this. He reached his arm out again and slowly tapped at Heather’s shoulder. The action reanimated her and another shriek and a sob burst from her staticky throat. She swung her arm around, snatched onto the sleeve of his jacket and then tried to pull him to her so she could slap at him with her other hand.

Her attacks were weak and easily shielded with his other arm. He made no move to pull away or restrain her in hopes it would give off the impression that he wasn’t trying to fight back. That he wasn’t a threat.

She managed to get two good whacks in, smacking him right across the face once and once in the chest before abruptly freezing. Her angry expression melted to confusion. The grip she had on his sleeve tightened and her fingers rubbed at the leather fabric of his jacket as if she was inspecting it. Her digits then dotted up his arm to his shoulder, his neck and finally stopping at his face. She rubbed her hand against his cheek, scratching at the scruff that had been brought on by skipping several days of shaving.

Gavin didn’t dare move. He was holding his breath and bracing himself, ready to be smacked or punched right in the face by the terrified android. Beside him, Haley was tense and rigid, and Alan and Hazeem were watching the scene in silent fascination.

“ ** _G_ a** _V_ i **N**?!” Heather suddenly blurted and Gavin jolted back in surprise. Haley breathed out a laugh in disbelief. Gavin’s attention snapped to the two techs, seeking answers they clearly didn’t have as both men looked just as astonished by Heather’s recognition as he was.

Gavin turned back to Heather just in time to be tackled by her. She had thrown her arms around his neck and nuzzled her face into his chest. Gavin didn’t know what to do or how to respond to that. His body stiffened once more, frozen in place for several moments before his arms slowly came down to support the secretary in a loose embrace.

Why did Heather have to recognize _him_ of all people? He was the absolute worst person for this. Comfort was not his forte. Hell, even Hank would know how to handle this better than…

Gavin froze at that realization.

“Go get Hank,” he whispered as if his normal speaking voice would frighten Heather. His eyes darted over to look at Haley, letting her know he was addressing her. Hank knew enough about androids to make a better call on this situation than he could. He also trusted Hank way more than he trusted the two dipshits in front of him. “If he’s not at his desk, he’s in the observation room. Go get him and tell him to come here, now. Can you do that?”

Haley nodded and rose to her feet. She stood on her toes and leaned to look into the bullpen, but Hank must not have been at his desk because she ran down the hall towards the interview rooms soon after.

Gavin let out an exhausted sigh and readjusted his grip on Heather; offering her more support. The android shifted against him to better curl into his chest, relocating her nose to the crook of his neck. Her head bumped up his chin and forced him to look at Alan and Hazeem again, both of whom were shifting nervously from foot-to-foot.

Alan opened his mouth as if he was about to suggest something but Gavin cut him off.

“If I have to tell you to stay the fuck away from her one more time, I will snap each and every one of your fingers off those greasy, little weasel hands, m’kay?” he said, his tone eerily cheerful so he wouldn’t startle Heather. He knew she couldn’t hear him, but her face was pressed up against his throat and too much movement would clearly give away he was yelling at someone.

Gavin slowly leaned back to better see down the rest of the hallway and caught sight of Hank talking to Haley. They were in the doorway to the observation room and when Hank stepped out, Chris Miller took his place in the frame. Hank said something to Chris (which Chris acknowledged with a nod), and then the lieutenant started to make his way towards Gavin and Heather; Haley in tow.

Anderson made it all of three steps before something else caught his attention. He abruptly stopped and his head snapped to the right.

“Connor?!” He called, and then darted down the connecting hallway behind Fowler's office. Haley stopped too, her eyes widened at the sight and she slapped her hands over her mouth in horror. At the sound of Connor’s name, Hazeem jolted and spun on his heel, facing Haley and beating Gavin to the question of:

“What?!”

“It happened to Connor too!” she said through a sob.

 _“What?!”_ Hazeem repeated, nearly shouting the second time. “Is he okay? Is he bleeding?!” Hazeem didn’t wait for Haley’s answer, instead simply running around the corner before Alan could stop him.

“Why the fuck would he be bleeding?!” Gavin called out after him. The question had stopped Alan from following his friend. He turned to face Gavin and took a breath to answer the question, but Gavin was officially done with these two idiots. “Is she safe to fucking move?!”

Alan blinked in surprise. He hadn't expected the interruption.

“Uh… yeah. She—She should be, yeah.”

“Perfect!” Gavin hooked his other arm underneath the bend in Heather’s legs and climbed to his feet. Heather rearranged her arms around his neck to better support herself and then curled into his hold.

“ **W** h _e_ R ** _e_** **a** r _E_ **_W_** e **g** o _I **n**_ G **?** ” she asked in that mechanical voice that was seriously starting to weird him out. Her tone and demeanor were both far more trusting than he felt he had earned with her.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, knowing full well she couldn’t hear him which led him to question who he was really reassuring. “It’s okay. You’re okay. You’re going to be okay...”

He lightly rubbed at her arm with his fingertips in a weak attempt to comfort her while he carried her to the observation room. When he passed the connecting hallway, he glanced over and saw Hank with Connor.

Sure enough, the android was sobbing and trembling on the floor. His eyes were squeezed shut, so Gavin couldn’t tell if he was blind like Heather, but the ‘symptoms’ (as the IT assholes had called them) sure looked to be the same.

Chris was holding the door open for him by the time he got to the room.

“Are they okay?” he asked Gavin. Gavin shook his head.

“I don’t fucking know.”

“What happened?”

“Fucking bullshit, that’s what,” he said. “Go help Hank. Don’t let those nerd weirdos near Connor and—” he twisted around, refacing the scene “—Haley!”

The android looked over at him and he jerked his head towards the interrogation room, silently telling her to come inside. She hurried over, following him into the room while Chris ran to Hank and Connor.

Gavin sat Heather down on the desk in front of the massive glass. He pulled back, meaning to let her go, but Heather latched on like a koala, clinging onto him for dear life and whimpering into his chest.

“God damn it,” Gavin said, having to awkwardly lean forward to support her again and to keep her from pulling herself off of the table.

“Thank you for doing this, Gavin,” Haley said, speaking softly and sounding like she was on the verge of tears. The LED behind her bangs was still that ugly red. It hadn’t changed once since they found Heather. “Seriously, you have no idea how much… just... thank you.”

“Why me?” he finally asked, looking over at her. “Why did she recognize me?”

They weren’t even close, at least he thought so anyway. He honestly couldn't recall ever saying more than four words to the girl.

“It was your jacket,” Haley said with a small, knowing smile. “It smells like leather and coffee.” She gave him a playfully dark look before adding, “And smoke.”

Gavin looked down at his jacket with a raised eyebrow. He took his free hand and lifted the collar of it to his nose, taking a whiff. He couldn’t smell any of those things but decided to just take Haley's word for it. He didn't question her.

Instead, he tightened the arm he had around Heather, squeezing her in comfort and reassurance before loosing it to a limp but protective hug… and just waited for Hank.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First and foremost, I want to thank you all for being so patient with me and this update! Several things have kept me from posting it until now and they should be solved by now, so hopefully, the wait won't be as long next time.
> 
> Next, I HAVE to give a shoutout to some amazing people that have created such beautiful fanart for this story:
> 
> Julientel has drawn out my favorite scene in this story - the android hand-gestures with Connor and Hank! If you haven't seen it, it is gorgeous and beautiful and way too perfect and the link is here for you:  
> http://julientel.tumblr.com/post/178578367761/what-about-family-how-does-family-do-it
> 
> And DankHank who has drawn out an amazing interpretation of Andrew Price and his oh-so-very-punchable face. You can see him on their twitter feed here:  
> https://twitter.com/DankHank360
> 
> If you like fanart, you should most definitely check out the rest of their stuff because it is amazingly adorable fluff that makes me squeal with joy. 
> 
> Also, also, also!
> 
> I have been invited to an extremely fun discord server that hosts several authors and artists and nerds like myself! If you're interested in chatting it up with some very fun people (and me! I'd love to talk with you!), feel free to join and come say hi!
> 
> https://discord.gg/DUyFvVM
> 
> As always, I apologize for any and all grammatical errors, spelling mistakes, or overall confusion you may have stumbled upon thus far. Thank you so very much for reading! :)


	9. Chapter 9

Alan Green and Hazeem Abbasi had been friends since college. They had both shared a mutual interest in androids and love for robotics and that interest is what had actually brought them together, even though they were both originally there to study IT.

It had started off as a hobby that they had grown more and more interested in and before the two of them knew it, they were switching majors and preparing to apply to CyberLife. Their dream job was to become an Android Specialist: a person whose sole purpose was working in CyberLife; creating the newest and most advanced android models.

Then the android revolution happened and the title of _Android Specialist_ developed a new meaning but that only made Hazeem and Alan want it more. A ‘Specialist’ was now the official term used to describe an android doctor. Both Alan and Z were qualified for the title but they weren’t certified for it, because (while they would have been able to earn it before the revolution) after the revolution, the test for it had gained a new, very important skill that neither of them possessed. _People skills._

The title no longer meant they would be working on machines but rather glitchy, broken, and scared  _sentient beings_ that were putting all their hope and trust into two men who made Tyrannosaurus toasters and that thought scared them both so much that they had settled for working in an IT department in a police precinct instead of following their dreams.

Still, it hurt to watch douchebag detectives carry away an android that Alan could probably help if he had enough confidence to do so. In his defense, he wasn’t technically  _allowed_ to help either (what with lacking the certifications and all). Not that that would have _really_ stopped Alan from helping... if he were ever given the chance.

Alan sighed and shook his head. It didn’t matter. The androids would be fine. A simple reboot would easily reset all of their damaged systems. They might be a little shaken up, but the side effects (from what he’s seen back at his own precinct) were never lasting.

Right now, his only priority was keeping his best friend from being punched in the face, a task he found himself doing quite often when hanging out with Hazeem. The poor guy really struggled to read a room. Not that Alan was much better. He was just _slightly_ better than Z and that somehow made Alan responsible for him by default.

Alan managed to pull Hazeem away from their host lieutenant and the sobbing android on the ground just as his friend was about to crouch down and try to help. He dragged Z further down the hall towards the archives and managed to round the corner with him before Hazeem yanked his arm away.

“What are you doing?” Hazeem asked in disbelief. “We can help! We— ”

“Not that way,” Alan said, shaking his head. “Not that way, Z. We can’t help him that way.”

 _They won’t let us._ They had made that very clear. It stung a bit, especially his pride and passion for the species, but Alan couldn’t exactly blame Central for their distrust.

If anything the two of them were suspects to an attack they weren’t involved in and Alan seemed to be the only one who realized that. Hazeem started to look defeated as his friend’s words sunk in.

“How, then?”

Alan grinned, unable to hide his excitement.

“It happened here!” he said, trying to emphasize his point. “The pulse happened here too!”

Hazeem watched his friend with an odd expression. He slowly nodded to confirm that yes, the pulse _did_ happen here but it wasn’t anything to really be excited about. Alan frantically shook his head. Hazeem wasn’t understanding.

“You’re not hearing me, Z. Listen—”

“I’m pretty sure I’m hearing you fine, man. But what you’re saying and how you’re saying it is making me want to slap you in the face.”

Alan rolled his eyes and let out an annoyed groan.

“Hazeem! Focus! The pulse happened _here._ It’s never happened here before. That means that it’s something to do with us—”

“—Not really making me feel better…”

“Our _equipment_ , Z!” Alan snapped and flung a pointed finger in the direction of the meeting room. “It _has_ to be something we brought over. We can search through our stuff and—”

“And pinpoint the source!” Hazeem added, finally catching on. He bounced on his toes in excitement. “Alan, we can kill whatever is causing this!”

“Yes! Exactly!” Alan said. They hadn’t brought over a lot, just enough to get their department running. If they took everything apart and looked through it all, they should be able to figure out what’s been causing the problem by the end of the day.

“Alan, you’re a genius!” Hazeem said. He snapped his fingers and pointed at Alan, a fresh idea in his head. “Let’s start with the disposal project we’ve been working on. It’s new and out of the way and already in pieces.”

“I sift through the hardware while you run software diagnostics?” Their specialties, after all. Not that they weren’t fluent in both, but everyone had their preferences.

Hazeem nodded, already making his way down the hall. Alan was right on his heels.

“If we find it, we might even be able to convince all of Southeast’s androids to come back!” Hazeem said, mostly to himself. His pitch was high and hopeful. Alan’s smile faltered a bit. While that idea wasn’t impossible, he didn’t share Z’s optimism. Most of the androids had been extremely upset over Captain Hernández's inability (or unwillingness) to help them.

Still, he wasn’t going to discourage his friend’s enthusiasm. So he nodded in agreement and rounded the corner to enter the breakroom with Hazeem.

They had a lot of work to do.

* * *

There were a lot of things that Hank Anderson knew how to do that he had learned within the last two years of his life. Most of it was android-related.  
  
For example, Hank knew the exact temperatures their bodies could withstand before alerts started popping up in their HUD. He knew how to identify and replace broken, nonessential biocomponents such as audio processors, optical units, and limbs (he also had a very different definition of ‘nonessential’ but he was not getting into that again).  
  
He knew the date of every android holiday and actively celebrated them. _Including_ the sappy, love-thy-neighbor HeArt Festival (where the _H_ and _A_ stood for human and android respectably). That particular holiday was less a day and more a week of community service projects, parties to celebrate all life on the planet, and an odd combination of Thanksgiving and Christmas.  
  
Keep in mind, _Hank_ actively celebrated the holidays. Connor did not. At least, not willingly. Hank made him participate.  
  
_‘If I have to fake a smile, plant some flowers, and cook a feast for the goddamn homeless with a bunch of happy robots, so do you, kiddo!’_  
  
_‘You don’t_ have _to do anything, Lieutenant.’_  
  
_‘It’s HeArt Week, son! Yes, we fucking do!’_  
  
There had only been one official HeArt Week, but still. Hank had been there with a thoroughly embarrassed Connor and had every intention of making his android attend the next one that was coming up in the next few weeks. He had already requested the time off and purchased most of the decorations and face paint.  
  
That was something else Hank found incredibly amusing. He, the man who had sworn he would never spend a dime _on_ or _for_ anything in regards to androids, currently had the most expensive and advanced model in existence. _Had_ not _owned_ . He didn’t _own_ Connor but he wasn’t ignorant to the fact he had significant influence over the kid’s decisions. Connor had never really listened to direct orders, but if Hank was serious the kid would clam up and obey in a heartbeat. He would twitch and fidget in silent protest, mainly in his face. His nose would scrunch, his eyebrows dip, his lips jerk—but he would stay silent and obey.  
  
It was a tic of sorts. A habit, like the coin, but this one stemmed from his dislike of something. When he wanted to do something, but couldn’t for whatever reason; whether it was because his code wouldn’t allow it, the brainwashing Cyberlife had instilled in the poor kid’s head told him to obey at all costs, or his absolute, unadulterated fear of Amanda.  
  
The day that Connor had his mental breakdown in Jericho (the day the android swore off his own kind and distanced himself from some very worried friends) was the same day that Hank had found out about Amanda.  
  
It never occurred to Hank, until he learned of her, that Connor was not owned by anyone. He may have called Connor _his_ once or twice, but he used the term in regards to relationship status rather than actual ownership. The same way he had explained it to Andrew Price: his android, his roommate, his partner…  
  
His family.  
  
In that regard, Connor was his. In terms of ownership, Connor had been Amanda’s. Hank had never met her. He never physically could. It was incredibly unfortunate because Hank had a few colorful things he would like to say to her. Amanda was an AI in Connor’s head. His handler. The one he reported to when he closed his eyes in elevators and woke up looking petrified. The reason he was so mission-driven and ‘I’m-nothing-but-a-machine’ at the start of their relationship. The reason he was so afraid of failure. The reason he was _still_ afraid of failure and needed praise and approval and direction in everything he did.  
  
Connor had assured Hank that she was dead. Deleted. Gone. But Connor was still afraid of her, and that made Hank hate whoever she was. Connor had told Hank what she had done the night the androids won the revolution and Hank had easily put it together about why Connor was so against simply existing.  
  
Hank hated knowing that the kid _(his_ kid, because at this point, who the hell was he honestly fooling) felt like that. So, he celebrated the android holidays and did the android gestures and encouraged Connor to explore his deviancy, his interests, his species’ culture and offered the kid as much support as he could on his end because he wanted Connor to be happy and loved.  
  
Hank was actually discussing the upcoming HeArt Week with Chris Miller in the observation room when Haley had come barging through the door.  
  
“Hank! Heather fell. She fell or something—I don’t know! They-they think it might be a pulse that did it. Like an EMP—but she’s blind and she can’t hear and I’m not allowed to connect with her and her voice is funny—”  
  
“Whoa, whoa, hey!” Hank said, holding his hands out to try to calm the former police android down. The light on her head was red, steady and unwavering. She kept waving her arm at something further down the hall, pointing to whatever had caused the panic.

“Alright, alright, it’s okay,” Hank said. He took a step closer, his attention on her LED, as he gripped both of her upper arms and dipped his head to speak to her. It was something that worked with Connor. A way to ground him whenever the kid got hit with emotions too fast.

Androids, Hank had come to notice, did not do too well under sudden and unexpected stress. They took in too much information too quickly and the overstimulation did not help their stress levels. Limiting their sensory input seemed to help.  
  
Haley looked into his face, the only thing Hank was allowing her to process. Her lower lip quivered and it looked like she was about to cry for just a brief moment.  
  
“It’s okay,” Hank said and offered a reassuring smile. He glanced down the hall and saw what she had been trying to show him.  
  
The two IT men from Southeast were blocking most of the view, but he could see Gavin holding Heather on the floor. The precinct itself was a little scarce considering the building was currently housing two different departments. If there were any small mercies he could count on today, it would be that whatever was happening at least had the decency to wait until lunch.  
  
He twisted to look behind him, catching Chris’ attention.  
  
“Stay here and watch Davis,” Hank ordered. Chris nodded in understanding. They had just transferred the murder suspect from holding to the adjacent room. According to the case notes, Vincent Davis had already confessed on multiple occasions, but having the actual details always strengthened their cases. They had been waiting for Gavin before Haley showed up. Davis was going to have to wait longer, it seemed.  
  
Hank started down the hall towards the group, Haley hurrying behind him. He wasn’t even sure what caused him to look over at the connecting hallway. There was nothing that had caught his attention to do so... until something did. He had to do a double-take at the sight, the scene caused his stomach to drop and whatever composure he had when talking to Haley felt as if it had been ripped out from under his feet.  
  
“Connor?!” he shouted, half hoping his eyes were playing tricks on him. He barely registered that he was running towards Connor until he was already at his android’s side. He had dropped to his knees well before he had actually reached the kid, allowing the tile to slide him the rest of the way. He knew he was going to regret that move later, but for the moment, his shins didn’t even register the pain.  
  
Connor was hugging his legs tightly to his chest with his right arm. The left, he was using to stifle his sobs as tears raced down his cheeks. The boy’s LED— _his boy’s LED_ —was flashing that ugly red, _red,_ **_red!_**  
  
“Hey, hey!” Hank said, forcing his voice to stay calm and even despite the panic he was actually feeling. He tried to coax Connor into uncurling by gently tugging on the android’s arms but Connor jerked back at the touch. The android frantically shook his head, eyes squeezed tight.  
  
“It won’t stop! It won’t stop! I can’t get it to stop!” Connor sobbed. _Begged._ Hank’s heart clenched sickeningly tight.  
  
“Can’t stop what?” Hank tried. “Can’t stop what, Connor? Tell me and I’ll help you. Tell me and I’ll fix it! I’ll fix it! You just gotta tell me what’s wrong.”

Hank was grabbing at Connor’s face, trying to get his android to look at him, to recognize him, to calm down! Haley’s panicked words about Heather being blind kept replaying in his head and he was both dreading and mentally preparing himself to see Connor’s eyes blackened out.    
  
Connor had pushed Hank’s hands away from his face, but the contact made Hank realize that the android’s hands were running hot. The lieutenant reached up to touch Connor’s light and he felt it burning in his palm before shifting to Connor’s forehead.  
  
Connor was warm, but androids didn’t expel heat the same way humans did. He had learned that (as well as many other things about Connor) through reading the RK800’s manual. He had read it multiple times, in fact. Even memorized pieces from it because if there was one thing Hank Anderson was going to know how to fucking do, it was take care of his goddamn kid.

Overheating was a big problem for androids. There were a few things that could cause it, but the effects that overheating could cause were far more concerning. Hank needed his boy to calm down.

He was almost afraid to check the correct way, a fear of verifying what he already suspected to be true, but his parental instincts took precedence over his fear. So, he slid his hand down to grip the back of Connor’s neck and sure enough, he was far too hot.

The touch did not soothe his android. Connor actually jerked back and away from Hank, banging into the metal cabinets behind him in doing so. The noise caused his eyes to shoot open, and his gaze was fixed down the hall. He wasn’t blinded— _thank God!_ —but whatever he was seeing (because there was nothing and no one down by the archives) just caused Connor to sob more.

“No, no, hey!” Hank tried again. He needed Connor to recognize him.

He had to continuously push down cruel thoughts that suggested Connor was seeing Amanda or that his stress-levels were too critical and he was bordering self-destruction. It was a task that was getting harder and harder to do.  
  
“Come on, son! Come on! It’s me, it’s me. I’m here for you. It’s me. Please, please know it’s me…” He wasn’t even sure who he was talking to at this point. Hank started to pry apart his android’s fist, uncurling each of Connor’s fingers until he could see his palm. Hank then pressed his own hand into Connor’s and prayed for the first time in years.  
  
Connor suddenly gasped; a deep, stuttering inhale that startled Hank and made him jump. Fear and anxiousness were squeezing his chest so tightly he would swear his heart had actually stopped if he didn’t hear it pounding in his ears.

Connor’s chest was hitching; stuttering in difficulty to let go of that inhale from his initial gasp. The android’s attention was locked to the left, towards the archive room, but his expression suggested recognition and relief. The next thing Hank knew, Connor lunged forward and latched onto his jacket. He continued to openly sob into Hank’s stomach, finally breathing again and while that didn’t exactly _matter_ in regards to android anatomy, it was incredibly reassuring to see the kid doing it.  
  
“Oh, it’s okay. You’re okay. I’m right here. I’m right here. No one’s going to hurt you. I’ve got you now, okay?”  
  
They sat there for a moment or two although it felt like a lot longer. Hank remained patient as he waited for Connor to calm down. He caught sight of Chris in his peripheral vision and vaguely wondered how long he had been there. Regardless, he was thankful for his presence.  
  
“Can you help me get him up?” Hank asked. Miller nodded.  
  
“Of course. Of course!” he said, crouching down and waiting for further instructions. Hank gave Connor a few more seconds before giving him a light shake.  
  
“Hey? Connor? Can you hear me?” Hank asked. Connor gave a weak nod but didn’t pull away from Hank’s chest. “Can you walk?”

That answer took a moment longer. Connor took a few more breaths and let out another whimper before he pulled back.

“I… uh… I think so. I-I should—” he whimpered “—I… I don’t know, actually.”  
  
“It’s okay. That’s okay,” Hank reassured and then turned back to Chris. “Let’s get him up.”  
  
It took a minute for both men to work around Connor and get him standing, but once they were steady, Hank dipped his head down to address him again.

“You still with me?”

Connor nodded several times; tight, short, and frantic.

“Gavin took Heather into observation,” Chris informed, bobbing his head in that direction.

“What? Why?” Connor asked. His eyebrows pulled together in confusion and concern. “What happened to Heather?”

“Don’t worry about it. She’s okay. She’s alright,” Hank said, trying to be both reassuring and gauge the distance to the observation room door at the same time. To Chris, he said, “We’ll take it slow. I don’t want to overwork him. He’s already running way too hot.”

“Got it,” Chris said.

“Wait,” Connor said, tugging at his limbs as the two officers tried to move him forward. “Wait, please. What—what happened to Heather?”

“She’s okay, Connor. She’s with Gavin and Haley,” Chris said, offering the android a warm smile. “They’re in that room right over there, man. We’re only a few steps away. Let’s go see her.”

“I— I don’t…” Connor started to say but quickly shook his head and tried again. “I’m sorry, you guys. Hank, Officer Miller… I’m fine. I just… I just…”

He tried to turn to look back toward the archives but he had turned too quickly, miscalculated his weight and balance, and nearly flung himself into a spin.

“Shit!” Hank swore, fumbling to steady Connor and keep him upright.

“Careful, man! Careful!” Chris said at the same time. Connor had squeezed his eyes shut and started mumbling apologies. His blaring red LED was right in Hank’s face and the sight of it was making the lieutenant feel sick.

“It’s okay, son. You’re alright. We’re gonna get you fixed up, okay?” Hank surprised himself with the calmness of his tone. “We’re heading right over there. I gotcha now. I gotcha…”  
  
“But Lieutenant,” Connor tried to protest. He was being dragged across the floor more than he was actually walking now. One of his knees was clicking in a way that made Hank think it was trying to lock itself up. When they got to the door, Hank struggled for a second with the handle before he finally managed to open it. “Hank, really… I’m sorry, I just had a moment of—”

Connor caught sight of the three people in the observation room and let out a yelp. He threw himself back so suddenly, he ripped himself out of both officers’ grip and landed on the floor with a thud.

“Connor!” Hank and Chris both called out in unison. They were at his side in an instant, both trying to calm him down and gain control of his flailing limbs. Connor was kicking out his legs, trying to push himself backward. The one that had been popping finally managed to click straight, rendering itself useless.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Connor said over and over. His eyes were blown wide, locked on Gavin of all people, and his entire frame was trembling. Haley had run out of the room to help the officers. She immediately started working on his leg.

“Connor, hey, it’s okay. You’re alright, son,” Hank said, although he wasn’t sure what exactly caused Connor to panic again. Connor’s attention suddenly snapped to Heather and he let out a soft whine that ended with a sob.

“What the fuck? Is he good?” Gavin asked from inside the room. Hank ignored him but Chris had looked up and was about to respond before a loud, sickening snap caught their attention.

“I got it,” Haley said, referring to Connor’s leg. If the kid were human, Hank would have sworn she had broken it or just snapped it right off at the knee. But Connor wasn’t complaining and Haley was clearly bending it so Hank just took her word that the problem had actually been fixed.

“Okay, okay. Chris, grab his legs. Help me get him on the table,” Hank said and all three of them moved to position around Connor to do just that. Androids were lighter than human counterparts of equal size but they were still heavy. The three of them easily lifted Connor and made their way to the table with him. Connor was almost trying to shrink back and into himself. It was as if he was afraid of Heather…

Or Gavin. But both notions were ridiculous. Neither one of them had done anything to Connor to justify his sudden fear of them. The thought that Connor might be seeing Amanda or some other fucked up CyberLife being crossed Hank’s mind once more. He debated on asking Connor but decided against it. At least until the kid was running at one hundred percent again.  
  
Connor was trembling and still running hot. He covered his eyes with his hands and ducked his head down. His elbows hiked up to his ears and the mechanical humming Hank had heard coming from him before was in full effect now. He was still far too warm for Hank’s liking and chances were high that Heather was having problems with her temperature settings as well.

“Please tell me someone in this room knows what the hell is going on?” Hank asked. His attention was locked on his boy’s LED.  
  
“Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Doofus out there said something about a pulse that used to break their androids on the regular,” Gavin said, sounding irritated. He motioned toward Heather with a lazy wave of his free hand. “They said all the symptoms looked the same. Chances are it’s the same thing. They must have brought something over from Southeast.”  
  
“A pulse?” Chris asked, tilting his head.  
  
“They suspected it’s some kind of EMP,” Haley offered, nervously rubbing her arm.

“An EMP would have shut off everything else though, wouldn’t it?” Chris asked. “All the computers and lights are still working. Wouldn’t all of that be off?”

“They couldn’t give us a solid answer. They said it was just a theory,” Haley said.

“Who’s _‘they’?_ The IT crew?” Hank asked. Gavin and Haley nodded. “And they said this has happened before?”

Gavin snorted.  
  
“Oh, yeah. I had a lovely little chat with them about that,” Gavin said with a roll of his eyes. “Fucking pricks.”

Hank let out a sigh and crossed his arms as he thought over a plan. If that was true and this had happened before, then that meant that it could happen again. There was a lot that needed to be done with that knowledge. Haley, Heather, and Connor weren’t the only androids that worked in the precinct. The others would all have to be notified of the incident and handle rescheduling coverage should any of them feel they need to call out of work.

Hank’s eyes drifted to Connor and he frowned. His android was almost making it a point to keep his posture uncomfortably straight. He was shivering as if he were cold, but androids didn’t get cold, so that meant that he was scared, and that thought made Hank’s chest clench.

Hank was going to have to take both Connor and Heather to a clinic. Have them looked over by a specialist and get the all-clear for them to return to work. Leaving, however, presented another problem...

“What time did you come in today, Reed?” Hank asked, not once tearing his gaze away from Connor.

“Seven. Same as you. Why?” Gavin asked, raising an eyebrow. Hank took a moment to answer. He was nodding to himself and tapping the point of each of his fingers onto the tip of his thumb. Counting.

“I’m sending you home early,” Hank answered. He finally pulled his gaze away from Connor and looked at Gavin.

“What? _Why?_ ”

“Your shift is almost over anyway. You only have what? Two or three hours left? I told you that you were going to be with us for the rest of the day, but I’m taking them both to the hospital and I’m not going to make you come with us.”

Connor’s head shot up and his attention snapped to Hank.

“No. No. No. No. No. I’m fine! I don’t need a technician, Hank.”

“It wasn’t really up for debate, kid,” Hank said. “Besides, look at Heather. She needs one too. It’s not just you.”

Connor made to protest, opened his mouth to retort, but then he actually did look at Heather and had to shut his mouth. His face crumpled at the sight of her.

“You’re still way too hot. Both of you are clearly overheating,” Hank said. “I need to get some ice or something to cool you down.”

“I’ll go!” Chris volunteered, taking a step forward and out of his corner.

“Yeah, I can go and grab some too,” Gavin added. He was still holding onto Heather but it was obvious he wanted to leave the room. Maybe he did notice that Connor was bothered by him after all...

Gavin made to unwrap Heather from his waist but the android let out a whimper and a whine.

“ **N** o _!_ **P** l _e_ **a** s _E_ **d** o _n_ ’ **T** **L** e _a_ V **e** ** _!_** ” she said. Her broken voice made the room cringe in sympathy. Gavin sighed in disappointment but set his arms back on her shoulders in light reassurance.

“Nevermind,” Gavin said, his tone a little bitter.

“I can do it,” Haley suggested but Hank shook his head.

“No, I’d rather you stay here with me in case...” he trailed off, almost as if he was afraid to jinx himself. He didn’t know the chances of this happening again, but if it _did_ , he would rather have all the androids in one room. Getting them to move, like in Connor’s case, seemed to be challenging.

Connor had been watching Heather with a sad expression. Hank couldn’t pinpoint it exactly, but it almost looked like guilt. He watched as his android reached out to Heather in a gesture of reassurance, but his hand was white, lacking synthetic skin.

“No, Connor! Wait, don’t—” Haley tried to intervene, but it was too late. Connor had already connected with Heather as made apparent by her reaction.

Heather looked revolted at first. She had actually made a move to pull away at the contact; not knowing who it was that was touching her, but knowing that that person was definitely not Gavin and that was enough for her to want to move away. Confusion came next, followed shortly by recognition and then relief.

Connecting with an android worked fast, apparently. Connor pulled away, offered the blind secretary a sympathetic but sad smile, and then dropped his hand into his lap. He stared at it as if mesmerized and said nothing, but yellow blinked in his and Heather’s LED, breaking up that nasty red that Hank hated so very much.

They were talking to each other. Hank found that somewhat comforting. At least Connor was talking to someone.

Heather turned her blind gaze up as if trying to look at Gavin’s face. The detective watched her in concern followed by surprise soon after as Heather slowly let him go. She set her hands in her lap and a smile twitched at her lips.

“Oh… kay?” Gavin said. He looked over at Haley with a brow raised in question. Haley shrugged.

“They seem to be okay,” she said and then turned to Hank and Chris for an explanation. “They—the IT people—they said it might be dangerous to connect with her.”

“Yeah, but these two might have the same thing, right? Wouldn't they just transfer it to each other?” Gavin asked, pointing between the two androids on the table.

“It doesn’t look like they have the same thing,” Haley said, offhandedly. Hank had noticed that too but he had been far too thankful that Connor wasn’t in a worse state to want to question a reason as to why that was.

“Do you still need ice, Lieutenant?” Chris asked, pointing at the door.

“Yes! Please!” Hank said, coming back to his senses. He moved out of the way so Chris and Gavin could go out the door. “Get as much as you can. They’ll go through it rather quickly.”

“Got it!” Gavin called. He was already out in the hallway, having darted out nearly the second he could. Chris nodded at Hank, telling him he understood, and then followed after the detective.

Hank was alone with the three androids. It was quiet for a moment, not quite awkward but getting there before a sudden thought occurred to the Lieutenant.

“How are you feeling, Haley? Are you doing okay?”

Haley blinked in surprise.  
  
“Oh, I’m fine. I don’t have any of... this.” She waved a hand loosely towards Connor and Heather. “I was outside, though. So, it might not have affected me.” She took a minute to look over her friends again before adding, “Unless you mean how am I doing with the situation. If that's the case then I'm not so great.”

Hank offered her a small smile.

“Yeah,” he said with a sigh, suddenly feeling exhausted. “I think I’m about there too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is horrendously late and I'm so very sorry! October/November/December are always such busy months for me every single year (family visits, holidays, yadda yadda). They always manage to trip up my routine and I'm sorry that this story had to suffer for it.
> 
> If you would like to yell at me in real time on why my updates are taking forever or just want to talk with some amazing, like-minded people, feel free to join the New Era Discord server:
> 
> https://discord.gg/GqvNzUm
> 
> Anyway, thank you for your patience. I was determined to get this out today but it's incredibly late so I have to apologize for any grammatical errors, spelling mistakes, or anything that just made little-to-no sense. MY BAD! 
> 
> I'm going to bed.


	10. Chapter 10

It was _incredibly_ taboo to hack an android. Borderline criminal, in fact. It was actually considered a major violation of privacy and trust amongst the android species even though there weren’t many with the ability to actually do it and the ones that could were only allowed to do so under emergency situations. Connor wasn’t sure if this exactly qualified, but he was torn for more reasons than just morals.

His chest ached terribly at the sight of Heather. There was a chance—a high probability, actually—that he had done this to her. He had been communicating with the secretary through an open link before hacking into the DPD databases. An open link with a channel he had broadened enough to support a significant amount of media data when he sent over the profiles of Hazeem and Alan. He couldn’t remember if he closed it. He couldn’t remember if he shut it down and blocked her out before he became overloaded with information and panic...

If he didn’t, then it was no wonder why Heather was clinging and crying to Gavin the way that she was. She would have seen everything about Gavin that Connor had; Gavin’s history in its entirety. She might have even been plagued with the reconstructs. Reconstructs that her processers most certainly were not capable of handling.

Guilt, as Connor was discovering, was not a very fun emotion.

He reached out and touched her arm, connecting with her instantly. He had heard Haley’s warning but didn’t care to heed it. He deserved anything that happened to him at this point. Heather jumped at the contact, clearly not expecting it, and her face pinched in distaste. She was just about to yank her arm away when Connor suddenly flooded her systems.

It was far too easy to hack Heather. All of her firewalls and protections were completely down; almost to the point of nonexistence. An android in this condition was literally at the mercy of his or her company. Heather recognizing Gavin was an absolute miracle on its own, but her attachment to someone familiar, regardless of who that person was, was becoming less and less surprising.

 _:: Connor? ::_ she asked. Connor could feel her reaching out to him; a tentative hopefulness tickled the wiring in the back of his head. He grabbed onto the connection and pushed comfort and confirmation back to her.

 _:: Hey, Heather… ::_ He let go of her arm and pulled his own into his lap. _:: Sorry, for forcing that. I wasn’t sure how else to—::_

 _:: No, no, you’re fine. It’s fine. ::_ She sounded relieved to finally be talking to someone. _:: I can’t access anything. I can’t see anything. What’s happening? ::_

Heather was truly in the dark. Connor skimmed over her status and couldn’t help but internally cringe in sympathy. A startling number of failed tasks and processes lined the side of his HUD: her systems were all blaring red. Guilt twisted in Connor’s gut and the nagging worry that he had played a part in her systems crashing came to the forefront of his thoughts once more.

First things first, though.

:: _Heather…_ :: Connor started, sounding hesitant even across the wire. :: _You and I are both overheating and Hank wants Gavin and Chris to get some ice. Can you let him go?_ ::

Heather blinked in confusion. She tilted her head in his direction. _:: It was really sweet of him to stay with me for as long as he did... ::_ She looked up at his face, despite being blind, and let go of his arm. _:: Can you tell him he’s an absolute sweetie for me? ::_

Connor’s eyes flickered up to Gavin before he forced his gaze forward. He most certainly was _not_ going to tell Gavin that, but Heather wouldn’t know otherwise, right?

 _:: He said it wasn’t a problem. ::_ Connor said, hoping she would catch his bluff. She didn’t; evident by her amusement that buzzed down the line.

 _:: You’re such a liar. ::_ she said in a teasing tone. _:: But thanks anyway… I’ll tell him myself when I’m fixed. ::_  
  
There was that guilty feeling again. It twisted at Connor’s insides and made him feel ill. He attempted to will it away to no avail.

 _:: Heather, I… ::_ Even in his head, he was struggling to form the words. : _: I’m so,_ so _sorry… ::_

 _:: For what? ::_ She sounded nervous. Which in hindsight, made a little sense. He sounded like a doctor delivering terrible news.

 _:: I was doing something that… ::_ He had to stop and think of a better way to word what he was about to say. He should never have been in Fowler’s office. He should never have hacked into the machine. _:: I think the reason you’re like this is because of… of something I did. ::_

Heather’s face pinched in an aborted snort and she shook her head.

_:: Connor, what are you talking about? You didn’t do anything. ::_

_:: No, but I did… ::_ Connor looked over at her in sympathy. _:: We were… I had a sudden… influx of data that overwhelmed my processors. We were connected, Heather. If I pushed anything over to you, I— ::_

 _:: Don Don! ::_ Heather interrupted. _:: You didn’t send me anything. This wasn’t your fault. ::_ She thought for a moment before adding _, :: Didn’t something happen to you too? You said we were_ both _overheating, right? ::_

 _:: Well, yeah… but… ::_ But whatever had attacked Heather had been worse for her, so it doesn’t make sense for—

_:: What do the humans think happened? ::_

_:: I… they think it was an EMP or something but— ::_

_:: If the humans suspect something like that, why do you think this is your fault? ::_

She was trying to make him feel better, but there was too much she didn’t know. He wasn’t going to let her forgive him for this until she knew all the details. He was about to say as much but she spoke first.

_:: There is nothing that you could have been doing that would have made this happen to me, Connor. You know that. ::_

_:: Heather, you don’t understand. That’s not true. I’m… a different model. I’m not— ::_

_:: You told me yourself that that didn’t matter. You weren’t special—just a prototype. A CyberLife ‘limited edition’… remember? ::_  

_:: Well, yeah… but… ::_

_:: There are no buts, Connor. ::_ she insisted. Her tone was clipped and defiant. _::_ _You didn’t do this to me. ::_

She drummed two of her fingers on her thigh as she thought something over before defiantly presenting her hand to him. It was white, exposed, and ready for a connection. Connor’s eyes widened.

_:: I can prove it. ::_

His attention darted to Haley. The second secretary had tensed at Heather’s gesture and she shuffled on her feet. Hank was behind Connor but he didn’t have to look to know the lieutenant wasn’t entirely on board with the idea of them connecting again. Regardless, neither the human nor the other android spoke up in protest and after weighing his options, Connor accepted Heather’s invitation.

He reached out, grasping at her forearm (not bothering with the culture formalities over what was technically an interrogation) and then dove into her processor. His vision exploded in a flash of white before the standard, grainy-view from reading through memory data came into focus.

He was in the lobby, through Heather’s eyes, talking to Haley. The former police model stopped just as she got to the door, Heather having called out to her.

 _‘Hey, girlie, listen…’_ Haley said, with an apologetic smile and a sheepish tone. _‘You know I hate to do this, but I don’t know if bombarding Gavin is the best approach. He doesn’t seem to be the kind of guy to... appreciate that.’_

Connor skipped the memory forward. He didn’t need to know the conversation that Heather had with Haley. He already knew that the secretary didn’t go outside. 

Heather hadn’t been waiting long before Connor pinged her. Another thing he could skip over. He saw Heather get excited at the prospect of talking to someone and then even more so at the favor. He saw her walk into the hall, look over at his own body, and then watched her walk towards the breakroom. It was there that he played the memory out at a normal speed.

A notification blinked in Heather’s HUD when she walked into the room:

> **Objective** // Distract Southeast for Don Don

Connor recognized Hazeem and Alan before Heather’s software did. Hazeem was under the sink this time while Alan was outside the cabinets but his back was to Heather and he ignored her as she approached.

Just as she was about to start a conversation, her vision fizzed and she stumbled forward. She managed to catch herself on the counter, but just barely and several thoughts quickly scrolled across her HUD.

> ???

> Run system diagnostic //

> Searching…

// Task complete! // All systems clear!

Connor could feel his eyebrows pressing together on his own forehead. According to Heather’s systems, there was nothing wrong. That couldn’t have been accurate. Androids don’t just trip or lose their balance. Something wasn't right.

Heather must have had the same idea because she quickly ran a second, more thorough system diagnostic. Tasks and processes scrolled across her HUD one-by-one, each coming back with a green check of approval even though the corner of her vision was starting to fuzz again.

Just as Alan and Hazeem finally seemed to notice her presence, her vision cuts out entirely.

 _‘Holy shit! Hey, are you okay?’_ That sounded like Alan and he sounded concerned. Heather’s darkened HUD lit up with several notifications, all at a speed that that processor of an ST300 could barely keep up with.

> ANOMALY DETECTED

> Open/cmd.exe/kill_ALL_tasks

//cancel

> Open/cmd.exe/force_reimage_ALL_nonvitalsystems

//CANCEL // Override // CANCEL!

> Open/cmd.exe/force_systemcrash.exe

// **CANCEL CANCEL CANCEL!!**

Something was writing out code and command prompts then activating them in Heather’s body. Something that wouldn’t allow her to override them herself. Naturally, she had started panicking. Her external surroundings had been either put on the back burner of her mind or were long forgotten (not that she had the processing power available to even think about it at the time).

Through the jungled mess of command prompts came a single notification that someone was grabbing onto her arms. She dismissed it, fully intending to try to retake her body before her vision suddenly exploded in a flash of red. Alerts blared against black—error after error after error. Popups of systems that were failing or shutting off, notifications that were asking if she wanted to delete large amounts of data and then approving the request without her permission.

Heather had shrieked and thrown herself onto the floor. She tried to crawl away from the errors. But she couldn’t override them or swipe them away fast enough as some of them weren’t even real. She had flailed her limbs, the alarms still blasting out so uncomfortably loud in her head that the speakers popped and forced themselves to reset. Her vision still flashing red and white and red and white and red—

And then everything went quiet. All at once, it just stopped and she was completely in the dark. Her audial couldn’t pick up anything, her optical units were as good as dead. Everything was dark, everything was empty _…_

She was completely alone.

Connor felt as if ice was washing down his wires. He pulled away from Heather before he saw any more. He already knew what those feelings were like. He didn’t care to experience them again.

 _:: Well? ::_ Heather asked. _:: You still going to tell me that was you? ::_

 _Anomaly detected…_ What anomaly could have caused _that?_

 _:: No... ::_ Connor shook his head. _:: No, that wasn’t me. But what happened to me was… different. ::_

_:: Are you blind? :: Heather asked._

_:: No. ::_

_:: Deaf? ::_ She was pleading now. These weren’t the questions she was really asking and he knew it. She wanted to know what he had done to get off scot-free from this. If it hadn’t happened to both of them, like she had originally thought, then that means the problem was with her and only her.

 _:: Heather, I… I’m sorry. ::_ What was he supposed to tell her? He should have been hit with the same impact of whatever caused this as she had. His processor should be just as fucked up as hers. _:: But I wasn’t doing anything different that would have excluded me from— ::_

 _That’s not true._ The thought was so sudden, he had to stifle a gasp. _That’s not true and you know it._

Connor had merged his processor with another machine. He had piggybacked his brain onto Fowler’s computer and then transferred it back into his body. But his body hadn’t been malfunctioning when he switched back to it, had it? His body had been…

His body had been unable to tug his hand away from the terminal. His body ignored all of his commands to cancel out programs and stop opening up new ones. His body had locked up, tripped him, almost caused him to slam on the stairs and he had to scramble on the floor with flailing, unresponsive limbs— like his knee that had locked up on Hank and Chris and Haley had to pop back in place…

How much of that had been from a panic attack and how much had been something else?

 _:: Don Don? ::_ Heather asked.

 _:: I’m okay! ::_ he reassured her. _:: I’m okay. I just… I’m realizing that it might have actually done something to me too. ::_

_:: So you think it was what they said then? That it was an EMP or something that did this to us? ::_

No. He didn’t think that. An EMP couldn’t have done this. It would have wiped out all the electronics in the precinct and Connor wouldn’t have incidentally saved himself because both he and the machine he was connected to would have both shut down. This ‘pulse’ or whatever it was that had swept through the building had targeted the androids specifically.

 _:: I’m not sure. ::_ he said regardless. He didn’t want to get into these theories with Heather. She had gone through too much already and he didn’t need to raise her stress levels. His eyes wandered over to her, roaming up and down her broken frame with pity and a growing sense of dread.

If there really was a device or a person out there with the technology to do something like this it could be catastrophic for their species.

It also meant Connor was going to have to tell Markus.

He wasn’t sure which of those two thoughts scared him more.

* * *

Chris had shut the observation room door and took all of three steps before Gavin was suddenly in his face.

“What the hell was that?!” Gavin asked, pointing at the door. “What the actual fucking hell _was that?_   You saw that right? I’m not crazy!”

Chris’ eyebrows drew together in confusion. He opened his mouth to ask for clarification but Gavin answered the question before it was even asked.

“Connor, man!” he said, raking his fingers through his hair. “What the fuck was wrong with Connor?! Why was he looking at me like that? The fuck did I do?”

“I don’t—” Chris tried but Gavin clearly wasn’t done. 

“If he tells Hank that I had something to do with whatever happened, I will actually lose my shit.” 

“I’m pretty sure Hank already knows that,” Chris said. “And this problem started in Southeast. It makes more sense that they brought something over, doesn’t it? Hank isn’t irrational, man. We’ll fix this.”

 _It’s okay to be worried,_ Chris thought as he patted Gavin on the shoulder. Though, _that_ level of blatant honesty would never fly with Gavin. _They’re your coworkers. People you know. It’s okay to worry about them._

Gavin seemed to have gotten the underlying message regardless. His face reddened and he turned away, excusing his blush with an unconvincing cough.

“Fuck, what were we doing again?”

“Uh… ice?” Chris said, pointing both fingers down the hallway and offering Gavin a knowing grin. Gavin rolled his eyes and snorted, but started down the hall.

“Yeah, ice. Fucking ice. Jesus Christ.” He rounded the corner and abruptly stopped, nearly tripping over the massive mess Alan and Hazeem had made. “Are you fucking kidding me?!”

Both men looked up at the same time. Chris appeared beside Gavin and tapped his shoulder in encouragement.

“Come on, man. You’re almost done with the day. Ice for Hank and then you get to go home.”

Gavin nodded and he made his way toward the fridge. _Ice and then home. Ice and then home._

Of course, his life was never that simple. After seeing Gavin, Alan had scoffed and rolled his eyes, his annoyance with the detective not quite gone from before. Hazeem, however, had different concerns.

“Are they okay?” he asked, seemingly forgetting the exchange he had had with the detective not even a few minutes before. “The androids—are they okay?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Gavin snapped. He swept his foot across the tile, pushing aside the garbage that was in his way to make a clearer path to the freezer.

“We _would_ like to know, actually,” Alan said, a bit of bite in his tone. “We actually do care about the species and—"

“Maybe you shouldn’t of fucked them up then,” Gavin said with a faux smile. Hazeem looked down. He didn’t have the confidence to go toe-to-toe with anyone let alone Gavin Reed. Alan, on the other hand, had a little more pride.

“We already told you we had nothing to do with that.”

“You still knew about it,” Gavin said as he kicked aside more junk. He had changed course, now making his to the two on the floor instead of helping out Chris. He kept his eyes locked on Alan. “You knew about it and didn’t say shit. Didn’t give us a warning or heads up. Now two of our bots are down and freaking out and you could have helped us prevent it.”

“Gavin.” That was Chris. He had already pulled down several Ziploc bags from the top cabinets but showed Gavin the one he currently had in his hand. He shook it, showing the ice that was already in it (a silent reminder of what they were _supposed_ to be doing), and then turned his attention back to the fridge to add more.

Gavin set his jaw off to the side and cast the techs an annoyed glare. He was clearly still itching for a fight but had enough sense to prioritize. He actually turned around and headed back towards Chris, fully ready to drop the confrontation but Alan spoke up again.

“I really don’t appreciate the accusations, Detective _,_ ” he snapped. He sounded like it took some effort for him to power through that statement. Bravery was not the force behind it, as made apparent through his wavering tone. He sounded insulted.

Hazeem inhaled a sharp gasp and gave his friend a look pleading for his silence. Gavin tensed and stiffly turned to face the two on the floor. There was a look on his face, a glint in his eye that made Hazeem crumble in one of his high-pitched whines.

Chris started to shovel ice into the bags much faster than before. Several cubes dropped to the floor.

“That's funny, you man-bun wearing, Kamski _wannabe_ ,” Gavin started in a low and threatening tone. He slowly made his way over to them, walking like a predatory cat about to pounce on its prey. “Cause I don’t _appreciate_ an entire half-witted precinct rolling up in here like they own the fucking place—” he kicked aside some debris with more force than necessary “—making themselves at home, throwing their garbage and absolute _shit_ everywhere! Making my androids sick and then ‘conveniently’ remembering that this kind of bullshit happened all the fucking time back home.”

Gavin had reached them, but Alan had stood up long before then. The detective was shorter by merely an inch but the height difference did nothing to water down his intimidating glare. Alan was out of his league (an observation made apparent the moment he had mouthed back the first time).

Alan was trembling but determined. The face of a man who was prepared to get punched in the face as long as it meant he could protect his values.

“ _This_ is a garbage disposal project,” Alan said, not once moving or even tearing his attention away from the threat in front of him. “But it’s state of the art. And capable of shredding through bones while being smart enough to shut off immediately should someone stick their hand in it by accident. A processor behind that could easily be capable of hiding and executing malicious programs. _Of course,_ we’re going to check it out.”

Hazeem scurried to his feet. He fumbled with a paper in his hand before offering it to Gavin with a shaky hand.

“The plans for it are right here. See? We’re not messing with you, officer, I swear we—”

Gavin, not even turning to look at the other man, threw his arm up and smacked the instructions out of Hazeem’s hand. Z squealed, startled, and then struggled to catch the paper. He missed it. Horribly. But in his attempt, someone else had caught his attention.

“Lieu-Lieutenant Price.” He actually sounded a little relieved. Understandable, considering Andrew Price was a superior officer and should be able to defuse the situation. Under normal circumstances, it might have actually worked out that way.

“Do one of you mind telling me what is going on here?” the Lieutenant asked like an adult reprimanding children. All of the rage Gavin had been controlling suddenly shifted to the lieutenant.

“Nothing you need to concern yourself with, Lieutenant,” Gavin said with a controlled hostility that made the room suddenly feel cold. “I know that might be a hard pill for you to swallow… Seeing as how you can’t help but stick your nose in everyone else’s business.”

“You better watch your tone with me, son,” Price said, pointing a finger in Gavin’s face. Gavin swatted it away and barred his teeth.

“The only thing I need to watch around you is my fucking back,” he hissed.

“You listen here, Reed and you better listen good—”

“—Hey, Gavin!” Chris suddenly interrupted, actually forcing his way in-between Price and Reed to better gain Gavin’s attention. Before Gavin could brush him aside or even comprehend the interruption, Chris shoved several bags packed full of ice into the detective’s arms. Gavin fumbled with them for a moment before blinking up at Chris.

“Take this batch to Hank. I’ll grab the rest, sound cool?” Chris threw a thumb over his shoulder, pointing to the counter behind him. Chris’ grin was wide and welcoming, but there was _no way_ he hadn’t heard the heated exchange Gavin and Price had been getting into.

“I…” Gavin started. He had to shake his head to clear it, reset his state of mind. “Yeah, that’s… fine.”

He gave Price one more look over before marching out into the hallway. When he disappeared around the corner, Chris let out a breath. That one had been a little too close. How the hell were they supposed to do this for the rest of the week?

Chris offered Price a toothless smile. It was forced, but it wasn’t like the lieutenant would know. Chris never really had a problem with coworkers, but he did have a hard time understanding why Price couldn’t just leave Gavin alone.

He went back to the counter and looked at all the bags, wondering whether or not he was overdoing it. Hank had said to get as much ice as he could. Well, he definitely had that covered.

“What are you doing?” Price asked. He was suddenly beside Chris, arms crossed and eyes roaming over the remaining bags of ice. His sudden appearance almost made Chris jump but he managed to contain himself, if just barely.

“Connor and Heather are overheating,” Chris said as he started stacking up the bags. “Hank asked us to get some ice in hopes of cooling them down.”

“Tell Lieutenant Anderson to hard reboot them—” Hazeem jumped in. Obviously feeling confident enough to speak now that Gavin was gone. “If they’re both unresponsive, I mean. I know the female was but I didn’t get a look at Connor. If he doesn’t know how to force a reboot then we could—”

“No, you two are most definitely staying here,” Price said, giving the two of them a once over. “ _I’ll_ tell Hank what to do with the robots.”

That earned Alan’s attention. The other man blinked back in surprise with a smirk twitching at his lips.

“ _You_ , sir?” he asked.

“Why do you say it like that?” Price asked. He didn’t look amused.

Alan looked away but pursed his lips to try and hide his grin. Hazeem elbowed him but turned to Price with a sheepish smile.

“It’s nothing, sir… it’s just… you don’t ever seem to speak highly of androids,” Hazeem said. “I didn’t think— _we_ didn’t think… you knew a lot about them?”

He spoke it like a question in an attempt to lessen the blow. Chris found that amusing. Price must have had a reputation for not being knowledgeable when it came to the second species. Perhaps even technology in general.

“I don’t dislike them,” Price said with an eye roll. “I actually used to find them incredibly useful when they listened to what they were supposed to be _used_ for. Now, though… they can fuck with your equipment, cars, whatever they want whenever they want. They can even track your exact location at a moment’s notice and no one seems to give a shit.”

“They can’t do that,” Alan interjected, rolling his eyes and clearly annoyed. He went to say something else but stopped himself as he thought something over. “Well, _some_ of them can but they’re the ones you would want to know that information like the EMTs or the police models… But they would need your phone number to get your exact location. It’s not like they seek out your body heat or something.”

“And they can’t just look that information up in their heads?” Price asked, waving a finger around his own temple.

“Why would they want to?” Hazeem mumbled under his breath only to get elbowed in the side by Alan.

“This conversation is interesting and all, but… I’ve gotta get these to Hank,” Chris said. He smiled politely and bobbed his head down in dismissal. “Later, Lieutenant.”

Price watched Chris for a moment, drumming his fingers on the countertop as he thought something over before finally giving into whatever idea was wracking his brain.

“Officer Miller, please wait just a moment,” he called after Chris and then powerwalked up to him. Without prompting, he took half of Chris’ stack. “I’m available. I’d be glad to help out.”

“Oh! Um…” Chris was at a loss for words. He wasn't quite sure what to do. “Oh…kay, that’s fine, I suppose.”

He wasn’t exactly thrilled over the idea of bringing Price back to Gavin. There wasn’t a lot of ice to carry anyway and in regards to the hard reboot thing, he could have easily just asked Haley.

Still, it seemed somewhat rude to dismiss Price. And he _was_ a superior officer…

Maybe Hank would have better luck getting rid of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, again!  
> I wanted to thank everyone who has given me kudos, bookmarked, subscribed, and especially commented on this story so far. You guys are the absolute best and I appreciate it more than you could ever know!
> 
> Secondly, HAPPY NEW YEAR! AHHH! 2019 is already kicking my ass for sure (two straight days of headaches and then four more of feeling like garbage) - Hope yours has been a little better than mine :D
> 
> I apologize if you have stumbled upon any grammar mistakes, spelling errors, or overall confusion so far in this story! My bad!
> 
> Also! Come join the New Era Discord Server! It's full of the best people and the most amazing writers, artists, and readers - all of whom are willing to help and share their love with you about this fandom! So, if you're interested in chatting it up with some very fun and amazing people, feel free to join! You'll love it too, I'm sure ;P
> 
> https://discord.gg/GqvNzUm
> 
> Thank you SO MUCH for reading! I hope you enjoyed it :3


	11. Chapter 11

Hank had reread his text to Ben about three times now, still waiting for the response. He knew Ben wasn’t going to mind taking charge of the department (he had done so on several other occasions before). Together, Ben and Chris could finish up Gavin’s case with Davis, allowing Gavin to go home. It left them short with detective coverage, but as long as no one decided to get murdered today, it shouldn’t be too much of a problem. Hank could easily cash in a few favors to bring in more officers should they need them and, if _absolutely_ necessary, he could utilize Southeast too.

Price was a douchebag but if he thought something was going to make him look good to the higher-ups, he would jump on the opportunity in a heartbeat. Hank had no qualms side-stepping to allow the man his glory if it meant that he could tend to Connor. All-in-all, this whole thing could have been a lot worse.

As if on cue, the door to the room was suddenly kicked open. It swung on its hinges and slammed into the wall behind it. Gavin stormed in shortly after, oblivious to the stress he had caused the three androids with his entrance. Connor must still have been connected to Heather because even she jumped in her seat and looked over.

“Gavin,” Hank started as he stood to his feet.

“I can’t believe that fucking prick,” Gavin said. He dumped the packs next to Connor and then turned to look at Hank. “He comes out of nowhere for no fucking reason, acting all high and mighty—”

“Gavin,” Hank tried again. He was watching the androids carefully, his concern for their stress levels was starting to grow. Haley had reached over and grabbed a few ice bags. She looked to Hank before pressing a pack into Connor and Heather’s hands. Hank relaxed a little. He had forgotten that he wasn’t the only one here that knew how to help an overheating android.

Gavin seemed to have finally noticed what he was doing to his robo coworkers. He shut his mouth and crossed his arms, but didn’t offer to help.

“Chris is bringing more,” he said, his tone significantly softer than before. Hank nodded.

“I figured.”

“We ran into that asshole Price.”

“Figured that too.” Hank gave Gavin a sympathetic smile and clapped a hand on his shoulder. He looked up at Haley, addressing her. “You got this for a little bit?”

“Sure,” Haley said. She had been eager to help since this whole thing started. She grabbed another ice packet and pressed it against Heather’s head. Heather, who was still very much blind, yelped and grabbed for Connor’s arm.

“Easy!” Gavin hissed. “She can’t _see_ , Haley! Give her a heads up, will ya? You’re going to scare the shit out of her!”  
  
_Big, bad, android-hating Gavin Reed…_ Hank thought with a snort. _My ass._

“Come on, kid,” Hank said, squeezing Gavin’s shoulder and guiding him toward the door.

“Great! Now what?” Gavin asked. He sounded annoyed but he opened the door and walked out into the hallway without resistance. Hank followed afterward, allowing the door to close behind him with a soft click.

“ _Now_ , you go home,” Hank said. “I’ll take care of everything else. Let me know if you need to take off tomorrow. I completely understand if you wanted to take a sick day.”

“Sick days cost money, Anderson,” Gavin said. He crossed his arms and rolled his eyes. “Money and time. I have neither.”

“I’ll clock you in. You’ll still get paid.”

Gavin pulled back, his eyes widening in surprise. He slowly unfolded his arms but he didn’t seem to know what to do with them as he kept lifting and lowering them like he was a marionette puppet.

“You don’t have to do that…” he finally said. “I’ll... be in tomorrow. Same time as always.”

“Well, I guess we’ll see you then. Assuming whatever this is works itself out.” He gestured toward the door and let out a sigh. Gavin watched Hank for a heartbeat or two before dropping his gaze to the ground. He sniffed and rubbed at his nose with his thumb.

“Are they going to be okay?” he asked, still refusing to meet Hank’s gaze. He looked like he was trying to hide an embarrassed blush.

“Yeah… Yeah, I’m sure they will be,” Hank said, actually meaning that. Connor was already showing signs of improvement before the ice. “I was gonna run them to the hospital just to get them double checked too. They’ll be alright.”

Gavin nodded and crossed his arms. He sniffed again and looked down the hallway before groaning in irritation. Hank’s eyebrows dipped in confusion. He looked to his left just in time to see Chris and Andrew heading in their direction.

“Son of a…” Hank started, cutting himself off by pursing his lips and shaking his head in annoyance.

“We… brought more ice,” Chris said with a sheepish grin. Hank stared at him dully before reaching behind his back to open the observation room door.

“Haley will tell you how to help them,” he said to Chris. Chris made to go inside the room but Hank suddenly stopped him with his arm. He looked at Andy, then at the ice in Andy’s hand. He took the whole stack from him and then twisted to drop it onto Chris’ arms, adding it to his pile. Chris cast Price a quick glance before scurrying into the observation room.

“Thank you for your help today, Reed,” Hank said, his attention still on Price. “You’re free to leave.”

Gavin’s eyes flickered between the two lieutenants before he scoffed and marched into the bullpen and toward his desk. He was actively ignoring Price.

“And just where is he going, exactly?” Price asked.

“When did that become your business?”

Price scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Well, excuse me for offering my assistance when you are so evidently short staffed, Anderson.”

“Why are you here, Andy?” Hank asked instead of taking Price’s bait. “I mean _here._  Right now. Carrying packets of ice to the observation room.” Price looked confused, almost offended.

“Officer Miller said that the androids were malfunctioning and that you asked him to grab some ice. I offered to help.”

“Well, thank you for helping. It wasn’t exactly a three-person job but thank you.”

Price narrowed his eyes.

“I was also told to inform you that the problem with the androids can be solved by a simple reboot. My two techs—who are _obsessed_ with the damn robots—were very eager to make sure you were aware of that information.”

“Thank you for that too. I’ll be sure to pass it along,” Hank said, his tone remaining dull and bored. Truthfully, he was going to run that by Haley (and maybe Connor if he was coherent enough to make those kinds of decisions). “I’m leaving the precinct and taking the androids to the ETR—” Price made a confused face and Hank rolled his eyes “The Emergency Tech Room. ER for androids. Benjamin Collins is in charge if you need help with anything, particularly our stuff.”

“Why would you put Detective Collins in charge when I’m more than capable of handling a police precinct?” Price asked. Hank gave him a knowing look but remained professional.

“You are handling a police precinct,” he said. “Your own. Ben is taking over mine while I deal with a family matter.”

“Family matter?” Price said with a scoff before realization seemed to dawn on him. He blinked himself into a softer expression. “Oh. _Oh…_ You mean the…” He pointed a finger to the door behind Hank.

“ _Connor,_ ” Hank corrected with a frown. “And _yes_.”

“I… I didn’t know you saw it— _him…_ like that,” Price said. “My offer still stands, Hank. I don’t mind watching over Central. It’s a very slow day and it’s nothing I can’t handle.”

Price actually sounded genuine. Concerned. About what, Hank wasn’t sure. The guest lieutenant definitely wasn’t concerned about Connor or the secretaries, that was for damn sure. Hank and Andy used to be friends. Andy’s offer should mean something. It should hold some weight or value to it…

But it didn’t. It only pissed Hank off.

“Why were you there that night, Andy?” Hank suddenly asked. He hadn’t meant to, not really. He knew he wasn’t going to get an honest answer, but the question had been one that had plagued Hank’s mind for years. The beginning of his fallout with Andrew Price.

“What? What are you talking—”

“The day Samantha got arrested. Why did you go to their apartment? What possessed you to even _remotely_ think that that was a good idea?”

“I didn’t touch Mel,” Price said, almost defensive. Hank held up his hand and shook his head in disgust.

“I didn’t say that. I asked why you were _there_.”

Price stared at Hank, not saying a word for several moments before finally shrugging.

“I… liked Sam. I _still_ like Sam. Melanie turned her in and I couldn’t understand why—

“Because Sam was a drug dealer and Mel’s little brother was a cop,” Hank answered matter-of-factly. “That’s why she turned her roommate in. Now, why _you_ went to their apartment to confront her about it… _that_ is what I can’t understand.”

“It wasn’t like that. Melanie twisted fucking everything,” Price said with a roll of his eyes. “As I _proved_ in _court_ , mind you.”

“You didn’t prove shit.”

“Excuse _you_ ,” Andy said, snorting in amusement. “Melanie and Samantha were close friends, which means I knew Melanie _just_ as much as I knew Sam because, as I mentioned before—”

“—I don’t actually remember you being interested in Sam, Andy,” Hank interrupted. “You never mentioned her when we went to grab beers and I’m pretty sure I remember Sam having a boyfriend at the time of her arrest. So, your story makes about as much sense to me now as it did back then.”

“What do you want from me, Hank?”

“The _truth,_ Andy!” Hank said, his voice a little louder than it had been before. When he spoke again, he was much softer. “I just want the fucking truth. I want to know what fucking happened. That night was what started the series of events that led Melanie Reed to do what she did and the only one who has the answers is _you_.”

“No, Anderson,” Price said through gritted teeth. “Melanie did what she did, not because of _me_ or _Sam_ or whoever else you and Detective Reed decided to try and drag through your accusatory circus. Melanie did it because she was a sad, depressed, and lonely little junkie who had a little brother that didn’t notice until he woke up to the sound of a gunshot.”

Hank felt his blood boiling. His hands were still fists at his sides but he had to will himself to keep them there, lest he actually punch Price in the face again.

“That is _not_ what happened,” Hank said, barely containing his anger. “And if you try and spew any of that bullshit to Gavin—”

“Hank!” Hank’s attention snapped to the left. He was looking down the hall and Ben, the detective was waving his cellphone in the air and gave the lieutenant a thumbs up before heading into the bullpen. Ben had gotten Hank’s message. Hank was free to leave with Connor and the other androids. He turned back to Price.

“Stay away from Reed,” Hank repeated for what had to be the umpteenth time today. He gave Price one last glare before going back into the observation room to deal with Connor and Heather.

* * *

Gavin had shut his computer off and had cleaned up his workspace. His bag was packed and ready to go but he was still sitting at his desk, staring at his reflection in the dark computer screen. There wasn’t a reason why he was still at work other than a utter lack of motivation to move. Even the promise of going home didn't seem as enticing as it had been just moments before.

He leaned forward, resting his head on folded arms, and tried to think. This week was going to suck. He couldn’t even last the rest of the fucking day without reaching wits’ end—he didn’t know what the hell he was going to do for the rest of Southeast’s stay here. This whole ‘joined precincts’ thing was a goddamn nightmare.

 _‘You should call Tina,’_ a voice that was not his own said inside his head. _‘She isn’t here today. She probably has off. You know she would come over and keep you company.’_

Tina was probably busy. And besides, who wanted to spend their day off with a bummed out friend anyway?

 _‘Those aren’t good reasons, Gavin,’_ the voice, feminine and soft and so painfully familiar spoke again. _‘People want to help you but they can’t if you won’t let them. They care about you… You gotta give them a chance.’_

Why didn’t you follow your own advice, Melanie?

Silence. That usually shut up the voice because even his imagination couldn’t come up with a valid enough reason to answer that question. _‘...Why do you always push everyone away?’_

“Gavin?”

Gavin jerked up, throwing himself back into his chair. He was looking at Benjamin Collins. The older detective had been leaning over Gavin’s desk, trying to gain Reed’s attention but had jumped back in surprise to the reaction.

“Sorry, kiddo. I didn’t mean to startle ya,” Ben said with a sheepish laugh. “I thought you had gone home a while ago. Was surprised to see you sleepin’ at your desk.”

Gavin’s eyebrows pulled down in confusion.

“A while ago?” he asked with a confused blink. He straightened in his seat and looked around the department. How long had he been out? “Hank—?”

“—Left with Connor and the other androids about twenty minutes ago.”

“I…” He caught sight of his reflection in his computer screen and he couldn’t help but cringe. He looked every bit of exhausted and miserable as he felt. No wonder he had fallen asleep.

Ben held something up, showing it to Gavin and catching his attention. It was the Manilla case folder.

“Chris and I wrapped this up for you. No loose ends. Perp confessed immediately and all the paperwork is done. You just gotta digitize it whenever you get a chance.” He set it on the desk in front of Gavin. Gavin stared at it for a moment before he slowly reached out and slid it onto his lap.

He nodded to Ben and then scrubbed at his face with his free hand, hoping to wake up or regain a bit more of himself before he walked out the door looking like a fucking hobo.

“Take care of yourself, Reed,” Ben said as he turned to walk away. “Let me know if you need anything.”

“Yeah, I’ll do that,” Gavin mumbled under his breath, too quiet for Ben to have heard him which was probably a good thing. It was said in a _very_ sarcastic tone.

_‘Why do you always push everyone away?’_

With Ben gone and his stuff already packed, he finally kicked his chair back and stood up. The case folder in his lap slid off his legs and splattered to the floor. If it hadn’t been paperclipped together, it would have spilled out everywhere.

“Son of a bitch,” Gavin said with a groan. He crouched down to pull open his filing cabinet and snatch up the folder off the floor. He stuffed the paper inside the drawer and slammed it closed with very little thought before scooping up his backpack and rising to his feet. If the folder was gone tomorrow, he would know exactly who took it.

 _Prickhead Price better stay the hell out of my shit,_ Gavin thought with a sneer. He swung his bag over his shoulder and pushed in his chair. _Such a stupid thing to get so pissy about_. _No one even uses paper folders anymore._

Gavin made it all of two steps before abruptly stopping. He turned back to look at the filing cabinet, eyebrows drawn together in suspicion.

No one used paper folders anymore.

Southeast didn’t. Even under normal circumstances. The file came from Southeast but it didn’t originate from there. It was a Central case. In a Central district. On Central’s network. How did it end up on paper? Someone would have had to log in, located it, and then printed it out…

_Why?_

Gavin let his backpack slide down his arm and plop on the floor as he walked back towards his desk. He opened the filing cabinet and pulled the crumpled folder back out.

Did Price just want an easy case? It was a homicide, sure, but there wasn’t anything about it that was praise-worthy. He smoothed the wrinkles out on the file, thinking something over.

Finally, he reached for his backpack, unzipped it, and then put the folder inside. Things weren’t adding up about it and that usually meant it was worth another look. He went to shut the drawer but caught sight of the cellphone again. The one that hadn’t been turned on for years. The one that had a lifetime worth of videos, photos, texts…

The texts he found out about just a little too late.

He reached inside the cabinet and pulled it out too. It was grossly outdated. It had been six years since Fowler gave it to him and the phone was two-years-old even before then. Melanie had never been a tech guru, despite all the photos and videos she liked to take.

He put the phone in his backpack too. The charger for it was tangled in the corner of the drawer. It came out after a few tugs. He coiled it up and shoved it in the bag.

Who knows? Maybe he’d finally have the courage to drown himself in memories tonight.

Shutting the drawer, he rose to his feet and finally left the precinct; heading for home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! It's been a while and I'm sorry for that but I am still active. More so on the New Era discord server which you should totally consider joining! 
> 
> https://discord.gg/GqvNzUm
> 
> It's a community of folks just like you who are SUPER excited to talk about dbh, share ideas, and encourage others into creativity. I also have a channel there where you can get news, updates, and snippets about my WIPs. You can also yell at me in real time for my terrible update schedule! :D
> 
> I apologize for any grammatical errors, spelling mistakes, or overall confusion you may have stumbled upon thus far. My bad!
> 
> Thank you SOOOOO much for reading. You guys have no idea how much I appreciate it! I'm terrible with responding to comments, but I promise I see you. I love you! And I appreciate ever single one of you SO FREAKING MUCH! <3


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